


The Lost Princess of Avonlea

by Gayrefrain (orphan_account)



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Anachronisms, Anastasia!AU, Anne and Gilbert fight for forever and fall in love, F/M, In this AU michael cuthbert is Anne's father just go with me on it, Sharing a Bed, based on the legend and the 1997 movie, but also still the show and the book, no supernatural elements from the movie, royalty!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-14 06:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16487798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Gayrefrain
Summary: Anne Cordelia Cuthbert, daughter of Avonlea's Duke Michael Cuthbert, went missing at the age of six after a riot destroys a castle her family is visiting. The remaining monarchy, siblings Matthew and Marilla, are distraught without their niece, so they offer a reward to anyone who can find her.Ten years later, Anne Shirley, a young orphan, runs away from her orphanage and stumbles across a pair of con men, Gilbert Blythe and Bash LaCroix, who want to find a girl, any girl, to play the role of lost princess so they can use the fortune to go to Europe. With some training and refinement, Anne could fit the part perfectly. The three agree to travel to Avonlea.But the trip is tormented by troubles, most notably an enemy of Anne’s from the orphanage. Will they ever be able to return the princess to the castle?





	1. A Silver Storm (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! This is unbeta'd so I'll probably back to edit some of the spelling mistakes. If someone wants to beta, I'd be thrilled!

(Anne)

Anne had a lot of trouble staying still. Marilla, her aunt, had scolded her after she’d posed for her first portrait the year before, and she couldn’t stop fidgeting. It was only when her uncle, Matthew, read her a story did she finally still, her mind tangled in the imagination of the tale he wove. 

She turned to look for her father, who was dancing with Princess Edwina of Montgomery, the heir of the Castle Rerro. The Montgomery family was having leadership issues as of late, and they hoped a union between Michael and Edwina would strengthen their holds on the kingdom.

The hall of the castle was decorated brightly with lanterns and filled with life. The Castle Green Gables back home wasn’t nearly so garish, but they were visitors at Castle Rerro. She had to keep her mouth shut. But she’d let it slip to one of the maids, who said nothing and hopefully said nothing to the Montgomerys. 

Her uncle, Matthew, was lucky. He was allowed to stay back in Avonlea. She had to make the long travel with her father and Marilla without his stories.

“Marilla,” She whispered to her aunt who sat perfectly, primly still beside her. “This is dreary.”

“I’m aware, dear,” Marilla whispered back. “But entertain yourself. You’re good at that.”

“Can we dance?” Anne turned to her in excitement. “Please, the song is so lovely.” It was, it was soft and soothing, and the violins sang it well. 

“No, you are far too small,” She berated the younger girl over something she had no control over. When Anne pouted, she sighed and turned to her. “If you promise to behave, I shall give you a present.”

“I promise, I swear,” She said eagerly. She had just gotten her dictionary, and she liked compiling lists of words that had similar definitions to strengthen her vocabulary. Mostly, her father or Matthew wrote them down and explained them, but she was getting better.

Marilla turned to her and took off her prized possession, an Amethyst brooch. “You’re growing to be a young woman,” She said as she pinned it to Anne’s dress. The young girl was, for once, speechless. “And you deserve a young woman’s jewelry. I’m...” Marilla looked at her intently. “I’m proud of the one you’re becoming, even though you’re turning my hair gray. You’ll take good care of it, won’t you?”

Gently, Anne touched one of the gems on the brooch. She always thought that purple was a lovely color. But, most importantly, she knew that Marilla treasured this truly. And now she was trusting her with it.

“I will. Thank you,” Anne said, and threw her arms around her aunt for a hug. Normally, Marilla discouraged such displays but, this time, her arms grasped her just as tightly.

This was the best ball ever.

+

(Gilbert)

Usually, Gilbert Blythe loved to travel with the Avonlea royalty. His father was the head archivist for the Castle, but he was dear friends with the court, especially Duchess Marilla. They liked to invite him along on their journeys and, in turn, his father brought him as well.

His father had gone into the ballroom, and he was bored waiting in the kitchen. He stepped out, even though his breeches were a bit threadbare at the knees, and went to the dance on his own.

The room was filled with people dancing, but it was practically lifeless in there. There were no other kids, no common boy he could play with. Though, there was someone else.

Daring to look, he spared a glance at Princess Anne Cordelia of Avonlea, the only one near his age in the room. With her orange-red hair and bright eyes, he often found himself looking at her. But they’d never spoken. For she was a Princess, and he was the son of the castle’s librarian. But he could still look, couldn’t he?

He watched as she hugged her aunt tightly, at the front of the room where the royalty sat. He smiled to himself, but then his eyes were drawn to the shadows on the walls. They grew nearer and more frenzied. He looked out the grand windows and saw a crowd of people approaching. He peeked and saw torches, and their faces looked angry and evil.

His brow furrowed in confusion. He had to find his father. He would know what to do.

John Blythe stood by the food, talking to the chef. He ran to him and tugged on his sleeves.

“Father!” He tried to say.

“Hush, you must behave yourself,” John held his upper arm. 

“Something’s happening outside,” He told him frantically.

“What on Earth-” 

Before he could finish his statement, a torch flew through the window and hit the carpeted floor and the dance hall filled with screams. Another torch joined, and it hit the food table. John shoved his son behind him as the flames spread.

“Get to the Cuthberts!” His father said. Gilbert ran to the front of the hall, where Duchess Marilla and Princess Anne stood, staggering backwards from the fires.

“What do we do?” Anne called out. 

“Where are the guards?” Duchess Marilla said, pulling onto Anne tightly. 

“The fire’s spreading!” His father shouted. 

“Father!” Princess Anne screamed, and Gilbert saw their King grabbing water buckets to throw at the flames. Anne dove for him, but Marilla and Gilbert held her back.

“Dear God,” The duchess swore sharply. She turned to Gilbert, who automatically straightened. “Get her to safety. Now!” 

“Aye, Duchess,” He said immediately and turned to Anne. “Come, Princess.” 

Anne’s eyes welled with tears, but she nodded. Together, they ran to the back of the castle toward the kitchen. People pushed past them, so he took them to an empty hallway and let them catch their bearings. He found a hanging lantern and took it from its hook. Hopefully the Montgomery family would not mind.

“Where do we go, Gilbert?” Anne asked, and he had to ignore the feeling of warmth in his chest that she knew his name without prompting.

“They’re coming from that way,” He pointed to the ballroom. “Let’s go this way.” He pointed to the opposite direction, toward the back of the castle.

Anne nodded, a sharp movement of her chin. “Indeed.”

“Hold on,” He said. They clasped hands tightly and took off. 

+

(Anne)

Anne and Gilbert had managed to find a back exit, one probably used by the servants of the Montgomery castle. They rushed through the obscured passageway, their hands still intertwined. The only light was his lantern, and the oil was running low. “I am frightened,” She admitted, because the word felt heavier than  _ scared _ and she felt more than scared at that moment.

“It’s alright,” He told her, even though as they left the chaos of the castle, they seemed to be entering a new disaster outside. “We’ll be safe, I promise.”

Anxiously, she touched her brooch with her free hand. But she nodded. 

The air was cold but the streets were crowded. People, rich and poor, ran around through the streets. Horses brayed in fear, people screamed in fear and anger, and windows shattered from impact. 

Both her and Gilbert, the archivist’s son, stood frozen in fear. She turned around and saw the fire of the castle spreading. The tall boy beside her followed her gaze.  

He shook her hand that he still held to get her attention. “We must go to the edges of town, it will not be as scary.” 

She nodded. She always knew Gilbert Blythe was smart. She often saw him studying back at the Castle Edward, known to all as the Castle Green Gables. He was two years older than her, that she’d heard from some of their maids, making him eight to her six. 

They ran, but then someone, a young woman with dark hair, ran between them, and their grip broke. The crowd surged.

“Gilbert!” She screamed. A crowd of people engulfed her like the waves of the sea. She lost sight of her savior. She pushed through the crowd. “Help!” She was not familiar with Kingdom of Montgomery, and it was dark. The only light was from fires and lanterns. She could not see.

Someone shoved her aside, and her hair fell loose from its braid. She whimpered at the tug, but she kept moving. She ran through the city streets, pushing through the throngs of people.

“Help!” She screamed at anyone who could pay attention. “Help me please!” 

In the corner of her eye, she saw metallic movement. There was a train station just outside the town, not too far from her. She ran for it, even as tears stung her vision. She was going to get help. She was going to find Gilbert. She was going to find her family.

She ran for a train, to get someone’s attention and to get out of the crowd. “Please, help me,” She cried. “Gilbert? Father? Marilla?” She practically begged, spinning around to find someone familiar in the throngs of faces. 

“Anne!” Someone shouted, somewhere in the din of the disaster. “Anne!”

“Gilbert?” She turned to the sound of her name and someone knocked into her from behind. Her head hit the ground, and then it all went dark.

+

(Gilbert)

Gilbert Blythe tried to find a lamppost to climb. He needed to be able to see. “Anne!” He shouted. With all the people speaking against royals, he hesitated to call her Princess, because he could hear people shouting  _ hang the monarchs _ and nothing good would come from that. “Anne!” 

Fear caused his heart to pound in his chest. He couldn’t believe he’d lost her. His father and Duchess Marilla wanted him to keep her safe, and he'd failed them. 

He found a post that had yet to be toppled. Scrambling up the smooth surface, he held on tight as people ran through the streets like chickens without their heads. 

There was not much to see. He could see a train station, and the destruction of the village outside the castle. Eyes straining, he looked for any sight of red hair, but it was too dark.

“Anne!” He shouted again, cupping his free hand around his mouth to be louder. 

“Gilbert?” He thought he heard her voice and turned his head desperately to find it.

“Anne!” He called after her, and leapt down, but some frantic person bashed into him, and he saw stars in his eyes as his elbow smacked cobblestones. 

“Gilbert!” He heard again, but this wasn’t the voice of the young princess. He scrambled to stand and avoid the thundering crowd, but he got grabbed by the arm.

He turned around to see his father, covered in soot. “Where are the Cuthberts?”

His mouth fell open, and he admitted honestly, “I don’t know. I- I got Princess Anne out of the Castle, but we got split up, and I don’t know what happened-”

“The guards got the Duchess out of the castle. Come, we must go to the carriages.”

“But Anne-” 

“We’ll find her, but let’s go,” His father ordered and Gilbert followed after him.

They found Marilla at the carriages. The Duchess paced anxiously. She grabbed onto John’s shoulders. “Where’s Anne? Where’s Michael?” 

“We’ll find them,” He said. Gilbert swallowed tightly, and tears welled in his eyes. “Take the Duchess to safety.”

“I’m not leaving without my family,” Duchess Marilla said, her voice strong yet filled with tears. “Don’t do this to me, John.”

“We’ll find them,” His father told her. “But you must leave.” He turned to the coachman. “Get her out of here!” 

“Where did she go?” Marilla shouted at Gilbert as John shoved her into the carriage. “Where’s my Anne?” was her last shout before the carriage door closed and the horses took off. 

Gilbert said nothing, just let the tears stream down his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr [@shirbertblythe](https://shirbertblythe.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat! 
> 
>  
> 
> [now with aesthetic!](https://shirbertblythe.tumblr.com/post/180666684480/awae-aesthetics-anastasiaau-anne-cordelia)


	2. let this road be mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years after the Montgomery Riot, Anne finally escapes from her orphanage, and runs right into Gilbert and Bash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all your kind comments! I'll try to update as soon as I can. Please, let me know what you think.

_Ten Years Later_

(Anne)

Annie Shirley hated the orphanage in the winter. Mr. Hammond never chopped enough firewood, and they would not let her use the ax after she swung it at the house in a bout of frustration, and destroyed a column that nearly took the whole place down. The other girls there wouldn’t take to doing a man’s work, so they refused. Due to this, they all froze, every winter.

Sometimes, Anne would be shipped off to another house during the wretched season, and she tended to the kids while the parents worked or bickered. But at least that was warm.

Annie rarely slept soundly. She had only two items in her possession, both she cherished deeply. The first was whatever book she was reading at the time, and the second was the brooch that had been found on her person when she came to the orphanage.

At only sixteen, there were no options for her. She was found at the age of six in a neighboring town that was torn apart by a riot, in which her parents had presumably died. She had a nasty bump on the head, and she didn’t know who she was. According to Mrs. Hammond, for hours, the only thing she said was _Anne_ before she finally came to. There were two other girls named Ann at the Orphanage, so she went by Annie to differentiate herself, and to stop the other girls from calling her _Red_ or, worse, _Carrots_. But still, she preferred Anne.

Unable to quiet her mind, she swiped a hand over her face and sat up in her creaky bed.

The lights were off around the house, making the rooms seem darker and colder, even though it was only eight at night. The other girls were asleep, since the only other option of occupying time was chores. Pursing her lips, she crept down to the floor and went to a floorboard under her bed. Gently, she pulled out her treasured amethyst brooch.

Mr. Hammond had tried to steal the brooch from her one night, and she kicked him in the head for his crimes. She got a brutal thrashing for her efforts, but she was able to hide the brooch in the floorboards. Whenever she could, she checked to make sure it was there. She missed wearing it. But she was more curious to how she got it. It was found on her.

Was it dropped during the Montgomery Riot and placed on her person? Was it hers, and she was secretly some wealthy heir to a vast fortune?

Or did she steal it, because she was wicked to her core? That was the opinion of the Hammonds. She told them that she’d sold it during one of her excursions as a temporary ward, and they seemed to believe her.

But after a beating by either the Hammonds or one of the older girls, she found solace in prying open the floorboard to study the brooch.

There was no beating today, nothing more than a verbal tearing down for breaking a dish. Mrs. Hammond was always on edge when Mr. Hammond was due back from a visit into Montgomery, and the vile man was coming back soon.

Almost as if one could set their clock to it, she heard the front door burst open. She looked around frantically to see if the other girls in her room had woken up but, blessedly, they hadn’t.

Within five minutes, the Hammonds were having relations downstairs. Loudly. Almost violently.

Anne covered her ears, and she tried to picture a new life. One where she was called Cordelia, and she was the daughter of a man and woman who loved her dearly. They lived on a farm, and she got to pet horses and play in the trees and just be loved. 

It was so simple yet so far away.

Downstairs, Mrs. Hammond took the Lord’s name in vain.

Deep and dark inside her, Anne wished she could run away, could free herself of this cruel prison.

Wickedly, she continued to imagine it. Running free through the city. Finding her parents. Being loved. 

Anne looked at the brooch once more, and moved to the window. In the glint of the moon’s light, she saw the familiar yet faded engraving in the most perfect cursive, “True Love in Avonlea.”

She had never been to the far away kingdom of Avonlea but she thought of it often.

 _Go to Avonlea_ , a voice in her head urged her. _There is nothing for you here_.

She swallowed and shook her head. There was no way for her to do that. Mr. Hammond would track her down, she would not get far in the winter weather.

She looked at the brooch once more. Nothing could be worse than staying here. At least she could explore and be free of the tyranny of the Hammonds.

She stood up, changed into a more suitable dress, and gathered her meager things. She filled her old bag with the brooch, a book, and a spare dress that was threadbare at the edges. She crept down the stairs. Long ago, she taught herself which ones creaked the loudest and where exactly on their panels, so she was quiet as a mouse until she got to the bottom of the chairs. It was dark, and she tripped over his suitcase that she didn’t see was there. She tried to right it, but it was too late. It hit the floor with a dull smack and emptied itself across the wood.  

With a preemptive wince, she tried to shove things back in the case, but she paused when she noticed most of it was bills. Where on Earth was he getting so much money?

On her knees and captivated by the currency, she did not realize the Hammonds had stopped their relations. She looked up, eyes wide, to see Mr. Hammond appear in the hallway.

He frantically pulled on his britches, a scowl darkening his face as he stalked toward her. “You wicked girl,” He snapped at her, and raised a hand to beat her.

Unaware of any other course of action, she raised the briefcase up and smacked him aside the head with it. He fell to the floor with a clatter.  

Desperate, she grabbed some money and her bag and ran out into the snow. She was not going to find solace in the Orphanage, she knew that well enough. It was finally time to do something about it.

+

(Gilbert)

Gilbert Blythe dismally smacked his head against the wood table after the last girl of the day left. The soft _thunk_ echoed in the small hall. “Why is it impossible to find a redhead in Montgomery?”

“Much less one convincing as royalty,” Sebastian LaCroix said. Ever since John Blythe had died four years prior, he’d been traveling, in search of a lot of things, the princess, fortune, and adventure. So was Bash.

Instead of any of those three things, they found each other and had been inseparable since.

That same year, the reward to find the Lost Princess of Avonlea had doubled to 200,000 dollars. Bash knew how to communicate, and how to discover things about people. And Gilbert had insider knowledge of the Cuthbert royals. So they decided to find a girl to fake being a royal together to split the reward. The new amount would be more than enough to get them to France. It could get them to France comfortably and let them live vastly without a care. He could almost taste it, but their travels were still very far away.

And getting farther, every day they could not find a suitable red-haired girl to play a part in their con. All the girls that approached were far too old, or far too blonde or dark haired or too round in the face when the missing princess’s face was angular at the chin, nearly heart-shaped. The princess had bright red hair, and bright blue eyes. One girl was close, but she was blonder than the sun.

Still, Gil pondered on Fidelia Clarke, and not just because she was beautiful. She was soft and stoic, like the perfect combination of the remaining Cuthbert royals. He turned his head and lifted it to rest on his folded arms.

“What about the Fidelia girl, she had the air of sophistication necessary of a princess,” He said.

“But she a blonde. Nate and Dunlop say they haven’t got no more dye,” Bash continued, tapping his dip pen to the table absently. “No way we can convince the Cuthberts that she’s Anne Cordelia without the hair."

“I don’t believe ‘em a lick,” He scowled at the mention of con-artists in town. He and Bash may be not purely un-manipulative, but they never broke a promise and always tried to help people. Nate and Dunlop couldn’t help a person if it would save their lives. “They are saving it for themselves.”

“Aye, and that’s their will. But they still have yet to find a suitable actress who can fool the Duke and Duchess. We’ll get them there,” Bash smiled.

Gilbert couldn’t help but smile back. “Come, I’m starving.”

“We have practically no provisions left,” Bash lamented, then smirked. “Let’s go right crazy then.”

With a laugh, the two locked up the castle. Some other homeless people had taken to staying in the Castle Montgomery after the riot, and members of many royal families perished in it. Including, potentially, the Lost Princess. But he truly believed she was still alive.

As he and Bash silently walked the streets of Montgomery Square, he wondered if that was foolish of himself, or at the very least, wishful thinking. Sometimes, he still got torn apart inside with guilt over losing the princess. He still remembered the feeling of her hand getting wrenched from his, and the way Duchess Marilla, normally so stoic and calm, about to sob at him for losing her niece.

He cleared his throat, suddenly tight, and turned to Bash. “I heard the Duchess is about to raise the reward again.”

Bash whistled low. “That would be a might amount of money.”

“We might be able to buy France if she keeps going at this rate,” He joked.

His friend laughed, “One day, boy.”

They looked around for a proper restaurant still open at this hour. Most were merchants selling expired food to desperate people, but some respectable places were still open.

“We should probably save our money, should we not?” His shoulders slumped.

His companion nodded once, not enthused by the prospect of old food either. “Yes, but let me see what I can do.”

As Bash went to the bakery to persuade them to “donate” their old bread, Gilbert strolled in the town square, watching all the people lingering in the darkness to buy tickets for the morning train.

He looked around and saw a girl standing and talking to Mr. Dunlop and his jaw twitched. Nate and Dunlop were so vile to go after a young girl. But it was none of his concern, he had more pressing, personal matters. He focused on the train. But he heard someone yelp.

He turned back, and saw the girl stumble away from him. But not before Dunlop reached forward and grabbed her wrist to tug her close.

Now, it was his concern.

With long strides, he approached the pair.

“Let me go!” She shouted and struggled, the hood of her cloak falling off her head. In the light of the lampposts, he saw her hair was a bright and shiny red, and her face angular and heart-shaped.

He nearly froze. No wonder Dunlop grabbed the girl, he wanted to use her to get the reward.

“Let her go!” He shouted as well, moving faster. It did not occur to him to get the girl himself, just to get her away from the con man. But people started to gather around them, watching the show, if one could call kidnapping a show.

The girl freed herself and broke into a sprint, pushing through the people. Gilbert lost all sight of her. With a groan of discontent, he slowed to a stop and frowned, eyes darting around the square. But she had disappeared.

There went his last chance of escaping Canada.

+

(Anne)

Anne did not stop running until she found Montgomery Square. She had only been twice since she was found there, and it improved each time. The snow covered the cobblestones, and the merchants’ wagons roamed the roads. Out of breath, she let herself enjoy it.

In one of those wagons, she purchased a cloak to wrap around her shoulders, an even brighter red than her hair. It depleted her already dwindling resources that she’d stolen from the Hammonds, but the warmth it gave was enough sacrifice.

She tried to purchase a ticket on the train, but the evil man with a voice like a broken chimney barked at her and said she did not have travel papers. She was shoved out of line by eager village folk.

Adjusting herself and placing the cloak’s hood over her head, and checking underneath her bag that the brooch was still there, she got herself free of the crowd, for they made her heart race.

“Excuse me, miss,” A new voice greeted, and she spun around. He was younger than Mr. Hammond, and rounder in the face. His smile was slick.

“Hello,” She greeted hesitantly.

“Did I hear you say you need travel papers,” He stepped closer to her.

“Apparently, they are a necessity,” She said, eyes glancing back at the ticket booth.

“That they are. Well, I’m happy to give you some.”

“Really? I-” Doubt cut through the happiness, and she paused. “For what in return?” She knew men of all shades and backgrounds. Most took a bit longer to reveal their true colors, but she got a feeling of alarm the instant his eyes appraised her. He would not do her this kindness out of the goodness in his heart, only avarice.

“Well, I see you have the most marvelous red hair,” He stepped even closer. This time, she took a step back, pushing her the visible strands underneath the cloak more, even though he’d already seen it. Curse her wretched red hair, it was nothing but a beacon of trouble.

“I am in great need of a girl with red hair.” He study her more, his eyes cutting a warm path on her face and body.

“Fascinating,” She said, clipped. “Dreadfully, I must confess I am not the girl for you.”

“I think you could be,” He said. “Why don’t we talk? My house is just over there.”

“No,” Anne said, nearly shouted it to get attention. She tried to run, stumbling backwards but he caught her arm in a vice grip.

“Let her go!” She heard a voice shout, but she didn’t care for a rescue. She freed her arm and ran as far as she could, shoving through the people in the train line who had gathered to watch them. She did not need papers at _that_ price.

She ran until she saw the castle. She turned around, still panting. She could either turn back, or risk the Castle.

The cowardly option called to her, but she broke off the wood boarding up the doors and stepped inside, knowing it was probably the safer option.

She was greeted to what had to be the bedroom hall. Most of it was hacked apart, but the bright purple wallpaper remained, only with a few tears. She kept moving, letting her eyes absorb every sight.

Anne had never been anywhere so large and grand before. She oddly found comfort in its imperfections. The broken floors. The torn paintings. Nowhere was perfect. But it was still the best place she’d stepped foot in.

Her footsteps echoed as she stepped on the tiles. Every plane of the floor was smooth. She walked to a gilded staircase, and let her fingers dance across it. Stepping down, she continued down a magnificent staircase to a ballroom.

The dance hall was easily the worst off of the rooms she’d seen. Burn marks scored one half of the walls, and most of the floor, obscuring the tiles. The furniture was broken, and if she looked closely, she could see blood.

Anne frowned, and decided to imagine the place grandly. Softer, less obnoxious colors on the walls, neutral and plain but the curtains added flair. Filled with people, dancing around each other. Music would rarely play, but when it did, it would be a grand occasion.

Humming a soft and sweet song, she spun around the dance floor, hands up in the air. The cloak swirled around her legs, adding elegance to her movement.

She did not know how to dance, but she’d read about it in books. And once, in the Shirley home, the first family that adopted her, she saw the Shirleys dance sweetly in the kitchen. There was no music, but Mrs. Shirley’s head was tucked into Mr. Shirley’s shoulder. It reminded her of the time she walked in on the Hammonds having their relations. But this was sweeter, but more intimate almost. She was heartbroken when they sent her back to the orphanage, unable to afford to feed her anymore. In their memory, she took their last name but otherwise moved on.

Her hands fell to her sides as she thought of Walter and Bertha. She no longer felt like dancing.

She went back to exploring, still humming the song. She went to the front of the room, where several regal chairs sat broken. She picked up a piece of what had to be a leg. In the wood, there was a metal rod. Impressive that someone was able to hack through it. Peeking closer, she saw it was actually

She studied the glittering lights in the metal, smiling softly, when she realized things sparkled because there were candles everywhere. Spinning around, mind racing, she gasped when it clicked that this meant someone else was here recently.

There was someone living in this decrepit castle. And she was alone with them.

In shock, she dropped the piece of wood, and it clattered on the tile.

+

(Gilbert)

Gilbert scowled as he lost sight of the girl in the burgeoning crowd. He could not even tell which direction she ran. Distracted in his search, he did not notice Dunlop approach and felt hands shove into his back.

He righted himself, nearly tripping on the uneven stones. He turned to face the con artist and he felt his blood boil just at his sight.

“What was that for?” Gilbert demanded.

“You scared away the girl!” Dunlop looked ready to get violent again. But Gilbert was just as infuriated, and younger and stronger. He was not afraid of an altercation.

“That was all you,” Believing in things being balanced, he shoved the older man by the shoulders.

Dunlop looked ready to charge.

“Come, Gilbert,” Bash said, standing still and calm, like a tree. He swallowed tightly and followed after his friend.

“Yes, _come_ , Gilbert. Let the black man order you around,” Dunlop sneered. Gilbert sneered right back, but Bash gripped him by the shoulder and forced him walking forward through the crowd.

“Now what did I miss?”

“The perfect actress for the role of Anne Cordelia,” He sighed out as they walked back to the Castle.

“I miss everythin’ around here,” Bash managed to be lighthearted as he pulled a baguette from his pocket. He broke it in half and gave the larger portion to Gilbert. He didn’t have the heart to bicker with him over it, so he took a bite.

“‘Should have seen her hair, Bash, it was almost perfect to the girl in the painting,” Gilbert said, recalling the castle’s portrait of the young princess. But it was definitely uncanny to the girl in his memories. It had been many years, so he trusted that a lot less.

Bash sighed and Gilbert sighed in tandem as they stepped through their entrance to the wreck of the Castle. “It’s alright, Gil,” He reassured as he bit into his own bread. “‘Least you got some poor girl away from that charlatan.”

Gilbert nodded. For at least he could take solace in that.

“I’m sorry,” He offered as they walked around.

“Don’t you worry,” Bash said, reaching over to ruffle Gil’s hair. The younger boy grimaced at the almost condescending gesture, but let himself find comfort in it instead. “We will find the perfect girl, and get our reward. And then we will go to France, and England, and Germany.”

“Everywhere,” He said with a smile, his mouth full of bread. “Let’s go everywhere.”

“Sounds brilliant to me,” Bash laughed.

They both stopped at the sound sound of something clattering. “What was that?”

“It sounded like it was in the dance hall,” Gilbert said, and immediately took off for it. He knew sometimes, especially in the winter, that people liked to break in. But they had their books and their plans in there, and he was not about to be susceptible to a thief. Especially if that thief was Dunlop or Nate, looking to finish what they had started.

He ran into the great hall, to see the cloak of the red-haired girl he’d seen earlier. “Hey!” He called over, as he and Bash raced down to reach to her.

She turned at the sight of them, and started to run.

"Don't run!" Bash called. "We just want to talk." 

She skidded to a stop, and spun around. There was still a wide enough berth between them where they could not lunge for each other.

“You chase after me then demand that I do not run?” She snapped at them. “Contrary, don’t you believe?”

Bash held up his hands, as if he were soothing a wild horse, which Gilbert did not find that far off. “We did not mean to chase, Miss. We just wanted to say hello to those who enter our home. My name is Bash. What’s your name?”

The girl tapped her foot, but seemed to calm down. “Anne. With an E.”

Gilbert cocked his head at her. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Why would I lie about my name?”

He could think of many reasons why, but did not have time to list them before Bash continued, “What’s your family name?”

“Shirley,” She said, then made a face. “Well, technically. I’m an orphan, and came to the Orphanage without knowing my last name. But the Shirleys were the first family to keep me longer than a month, and the name remained.”

“How do you not know your last name?” Bash asked.

“With a name like yours, I find myself amused by your concern with my nomenclature,” She said, straightening her shoulders.

The elder man grinned, looking down to share the smile with Gil. “Bash is short for Sebastian LaCroix. I wish it were more interesting than that, Miss Shirley. I know yours must be might interestin'.”

She sighed, “You are correct. I lost my memory when I was six. I don’t know a single thing about my life prior to that point.”

Gilbert and Bash share a look.

“You know, Bash,” Gilbert began, cogs turning in his head as he thought how to spin this. “Did the Lost Princess disappear at the age of six?”

Bash quirked an eyebrow in confusion at first, but quickly caught on. “Yea, she did. No one ever saw her since that.”

“The Lost Princess?” The girl, Anne, repeated.

“Anne Cordelia Cuthbert, a princess in line for the throne. In this town, in fact, she went missing ten years ago,” Gilbert began.

“Truly a tragical story,” Anne said, her voice not seeming to be affected by the tragedy.

“The Duke and Duchess are desperate to find her,” Bash said. “And so are we, anything to help the people of Avonlea.”

“Avonlea?” For some reason, that got her focus. “That is where the lost princess is from?”

“You have not heard this before?” Gilbert asked, him and Bash walking toward the middle of the dance hall, shortening the gap between them.

The girl approached as well, moving hesitantly. “No, gossip did not reach my orphanage. In fact, not much did.”

“We look to reunite the Cuthberts with their lost niece,” Bash said. “And we wish to travel to Avonlea tomorrow.”

“Are you truly?” She asked. “I wish to go to Avonlea.”

“We would love to offer you passage with us, in fact, we have a third travel visa,” Gilbert said, dropping his voice so it sounded resigned and forlorn, but not enough to be too saturated. “But we promised ourselves we would only ever travel with the princess.”

“For it is all we can afford,” Bash, thankfully, played along. Normally, the girls they asked to join them were aware of the plot to split the reward. But if they could work the agreement so they would not have to split any of the money, they could get their fair share.

Anne pursed her lips.

“We hope you have a good evening, Miss Shirley,” Gilbert said. Quickly, he grabbed his friend by the wrist and lead them back through the dance hall.

“Don’t ya think you are leaving too early?” Bash hissed through his teeth.

“Trust me,” Gilbert urged him. He waited three seconds, mouthing them along.

“You know,” The girl spoke up from behind them and Gilbert spun around slowly. “I have always harbored fantasies of being a royal. Do you think- Gosh, I cannot consider myself a princess of anything.” She held onto her hip, which caught his eyes. Most girls he knew who got emotional grabbed onto their collarbones, or covered their mouths.

“But think of it, dear,” Bash said, turning back around. “What if this is your past?”  
Gilbert watched as the girl pondered through it.

“The monarchs of Avonlea wishes dearly to be reunited with her niece,” Gilbert said. “It would not hurt to eliminate one girl from the selection, would it not?”

“I suppose not,” Anne said, but she still eyed them like she did not fully trust them.

“What is the harm in trying?” Bash offered. “If anything, you get a trip to Avonlea.”

Gilbert watched the girl’s face as that convinced her. “If you are looking for an Anne, I hope you found her.” She offered.

Gilbert grinned, sharing the glee with Bash. They might not have found the true Anne, but at least they found their first step to riches.

+

(Dunlop)

“Show’s over,” Mr. Dunlop snapped at the gawkers, and went to focus on putting away his wares. The damned Blythe boy and his black man, the two of them were nothing but trouble. He hated when they found their way back to Montgomery County.

He heard a loud clatter, and turned to see an angry man stumble into the square, his lower half wet with snow.

“Where’s that blasted girl?” He thought he heard him mumble and slur, liquor thickening his words.

Dunlop smirked to himself. Angry drunks always made interesting marks. Not so simple as a kid, and easily volatile, but after losing the perfect candidate for the Lost Princess, he could use a bit of danger.

“Aye, sir, can I help you?” He offered.

The man looked at him, but it took a while for his glazed eyes to focus. “Yeah, you can help me. I’m lookin’ for a ginger church bell who makes my life hell.”

“A ginger you say?” It did not take a genius to put two and two together. Nate was going to  _love_ this.

“Yeah,” The man spit on the stone street. “She escaped from my orphanage, stole my money. I need to find her an’ get it back. Did you see her?”

Dunlop hid his smirk. “My name’s Dunlop. I believe I can help you, for a small sum.”

The drunkard stared at him, “I don’t want to involve ya. The girl is trouble.”

“Well isn’t that great, then,” He smiled. “You see, my partner and I, we have a right talent for finding trouble.”


	3. it's the end of the line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio travel by train.

(Anne)

Anne yawned as she settled in the train car, her cloak covering her hair at Mr. LaCroix’s insistence. Instead of getting sleep, Bash and his companion told her all about the royals in the Cuthbert family tree, as helped pack their lone trunk filled with clothing and books.

She liked learning, she truly did, but not for a full night.

It had yet to fully sink in that she could be royalty. Believing in something that frivolous was just that, _frivolous_. Ridiculous. Preposterous. Nonsensical.

But still, she toyed with the brooch that she’d hidden under her dress. What if she sincerely were a Princess?

She rested against the corner of the train and closed her eyes, and hoped for rest instead of true sleep. She knew the dangers of a woman traveling alone.

She was not technically alone in this room, but she was with a stranger, Bash LaCroix’s ward. Was he a ward? Or an owner, even in this day and age? Or a kindred spirit?

She was not sure. In fact, in all the haste of last night, she’s fairly certain they did not get introduced before they threw her into the depths of the Cuthbert family line.

It was just her and him in the coach, for Bash was not allowed to travel with them in this section. He was in the back of the train with the baggage, and she was left alone with an almost utter stranger.

She opened her eyes and studied the boy. His face was almost young, the scruff that gathered on the bottom half of his face gave him years. He had hazel eyes, unlike any she’d ever seen, and his hair curled under his hat. The hat was currently being used as a blockage against the morning sun, tilted over his closed eyes.

With the toes of her feet, she gently kicked his leg. “What’s your name?”

He stayed in restful slumber. She kicked him a bit harder and he stumbled awake.

“Aye, what is the matter?”

“What’s your name?” She repeated herself.

“It’s Gilbert,” He folded his hands over his stomach. “Gilbert Blythe. But I hardly think that’s consequential at the moment.”

She stared at his eyes some more. Even though she had originally thought of them as unique, there was something familiar about them.

“I didn’t mean to confuse you,” He said, and she realized she was staring. “Consequential means-”

“The result of an act. Or, in this instance, important. C-O-N-S-E-Q-U-E-N-T-I-A-L.”

The boy studied her. “That’s a twenty-five cent word for an orphan.”

“Former orphan,” She corrected then paced herself, trying not to be so eager. “Apparently.”

“A-P-P-A-R-E-N-T-L-Y,” He spelled it, lips quirked in a smirk.

She wanted to smack it off his face. “You will not come out as victor in a spelling contest with me, Blythe. There was nothing else to do in the orphanage but read.” The option was either read or be bullied, and the choice was obvious, _when_ she could control it.

“O-R-P-H-A-N-A-G-E. Can you spell contradictory? You certainly seem to be it.”

“C-O-N-T-R-A-D-I-C-T-O-R-Y. Spell preposterous.”

“P-R-E-P-O-S-T-E-R-O-U-S,” Gilbert said, straightening like he was readying for war. “ _Perfervid_.”

They kept up a volley, bantering words and spellings back and forth. It started to escalate (a word he said after she gave him the deceptive _accommodate_ that he unfortunately got correct), and she leapt to her feet to spell _coruscant_ , voice getting louder as she demanded he spell ebullient.

He leapt to his feet as well, their eyes locked in a tense stand-off as he rattled off the letters, “E-B-U-!”

A loud and harsh smack reverberated the small room, and they both turned to face the direction of which it came. “Keep it down! Some of us are trying to rest!”

“How dare you order us to keep quiet through shouting?” Anne smacked the wall back. “Does that not defeat the point? Why not a letter? Or a _please_ , you rude-”

“We’re sorry,” Gilbert put a hand on her shoulder to gently call through the walls. “We’ll be quiet.”

His hand slipped from her shoulder to grab her arm as he hissed, “The last thing we need is for you to get us in trouble.”

She pursed her lips, definitely unappreciative of this _boy_ scolding her like a child.

“I do not need you to rescue me,” She shrugged herself out of his grip.

“That remains to be seen.”

She debated slapping him, like she always wished Jane Eyre would slap Mr Rochester. But decided there was a nonviolent alternative.

She stepped up to him. He did not budge, which she could hardly fault because their room was cramped. Had he stepped backwards, he’d fall on his behind onto the bench.

“Gilbert, do you truly believe I am the lost princess?”

“Of course I do,” He said immediately.

“Then I order you to leave me alone,” She snapped at him and sat herself down on the bench.

She partially expected him to fight her on it, but he just gathered his coat and left.

She straightened her shoulders, and decided resolutely that it was good riddance to bad rubbish. With a gleeful stretch of her legs, she took up the entire bench and rested her eyes.

_+_

(Gilbert)

Gilbert Blythe walked the train, heading toward the food cart. But he did not rush, he took his time pacing the rattling floor. He could hear his father’s voice tell him, “I love a train. It’s a big world, son. Remember that.”

He’d seen a fair bit of the world, all the way down to the edges of North America. But he still longed to see more, to truly honor his father and his memory.

Since John Blythe’s passing, he had traveled by boat, carriage, train, and wherever his two legs would carry him. More often than not, it was boat. Trains were still his favorite, with their speed and agility as they cut through land and mountain.

He leaned against the wall, and thought of the red headed girl in his cabin. _Ordering_ him to leave, after potentially getting them both in danger.

He shook his head to himself, and overheard a conversation nearby.

“I love these new Visas,” A man turned to another and flashed a bright red passport. “Much better than the yellow from yesteryear.”

Gilbert’s hand went to his coat pocket and pulled out the travel visas he and Bash had prepared. They were as yellow as gold.  

Straight down the line of cars, through the windows, he could see the conductor. He held out a red passport for inspection.

Biting back a curse, he pushed back through the people and to their shared room. He flung open the door. “Come, Anne, grab your things,” He ordered, ignoring the way she flinched at the sudden noise. “We must join Bash in the back trolley.” He gathered their heaviest bag that sat above them.

The girl yawned but did as she was told, “Why? Is there an impediment in our papers?”

Gilbert couldn’t help himself as he spelled out, “I-M-P-E-D-I-M-E-N-T. And yes-”

“Not impressive, the word is very vocal,” She interrupted him. “Now, a word like _frivolous_ -”

“We do not have the time,” He interrupted her. “We must join Bash, come quickly.”

“We have time for _you_ to spell,” She huffed as they carried their bags down through the halls, ducking around people. “But when _I_ do it, we suddenly suffer a shortage.”

“You take too long,” He said, which was fairly true. She enunciated every letter, giving them weight like they were made of gold. He turned back to eye the approaching conductor. They did not have more than a minute to escape his clutches. If they got caught in the same car with him, they’d be booted from the train. And this was the fastest way to Avonlea.

“I do _not_ , you go too fast,” She said, following behind him quickly. She was agile on her feet, he would give her that.

Gilbert found the back engine as someone, wearing a low cap, exited it. He shoved past them, keeping his head ducked low. Gilbert could barely pay attention as they found the walkway, a lone rail, that connected the back train’s engine to the storage trolley.

“How can anyone tell if you’re correct if you say the words quicker than a lightning strike?” She continued, rambling on as if they weren't in stifling heat. 

He swung the door open and wind whipped around them. It was refreshing after the heat of the engine, just as stifling as his memories of shoveling coal for vessels.

“Wait here,” He set the baggage down at her feet and started the trek to cross the line. He knocked on the door to get Bash’s attention.

No response.

Desperate to get out of harm’s way, he battled with the door’s handle. It was budged, but he could feel it give. He pulled on it, straining his muscles.

He paused in getting the door, and turned to her. “Be assuaged, your Grace. I am always correct.”

He went back to the door’s handle, and willed it to open. Behind him, Anne spelled out, “A-S-S-U-A-G-E-D. And _you_ still didn’t spell ebullient.”

Gilbert ignored her as he finally got the door open. “Gilbert?” Bash called, appearing out of a corner. He turned back to the luggage.

Anne reached over to hand the bag over the small walkway of two rods, her feet stepping hesitantly to extend herself.

Gil grabbed it from her and handed it to Bash, who carried it in. “Can you walk it?”

She nodded once, sharply, and slung her bag around her. He waited, hand outstretched, as she made her way across the rod.

The wind whipped her hair and cloak around her body, making her look like a character from a gothic novel. Except most of them did not dare to have red hair.

“Be careful, dear!” Bash called.

Gilbert watched, impressed, as she crossed soundly. A heavy gust of wind cut across them, but she stayed her balance with only a minor hiccup and made it to the trolley all on her own.

“E-B-U-L-L-I-N-T,” He said, as he guided her into the baggage cart.

She grinned, gleeful and scornful all at once. “E-B-U-L-L-I- _E_ -N-T.”

“What are you two going on about?” Bash demanded. “And why are you joining me here?”

“Bit of problem with the papers,” Gilbert admitted, ignoring the potential princess’s preening. “If we hide back here, we should be fine.”

Anne froze, then glared at them both. “What sort of problem with the papers?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Princess. We’ll get it right sorted, won’t we, Gil?”

Gilbert nodded at Bash’s words. She softened a bit, since Bash had a very soothing air. “For now, it’s safest we stick together.”

“Fine,” Anne said. “If it’s safest.”

Of course, that’s when the train shuddered and jolted so hard they fell off balance.

“What happened?” She demanded as Bash fell in the tumbling luggage.

Gilbert pulled himself up to peek through the side window. What he saw caused a pit to fall in his stomach.

“We’ve been separated from the train.”

+

(Anne)

“Separated?” Anne repeated, pulling herself up to stand. Was it her imagination, or was the train somehow getting faster? “How is that possible? We’re going in the same direction!”

“I don’t know,” Gilbert said. “But the train’s now much farther ahead.”

Anne looked out the window as well, and saw the train at least a half a kilometer down the tracks. She watched, helpless and incapacitated, as the railways switched on the track, a small shift of metal against the snow.

“Oh no,” Both her and Gilbert spoke at the same time, and instead of going the way to Avonlea, their broken train was off in another direction.

“What do we do?” Anne demanded, looking to Gilbert and Bash.

“We must stop the train,” Gilbert said. He cleared his throat, and she watched him get his bearings. “I’ll check with the engineer, you stay here.”

Gilbert flung open the door and climbed across the connecting rods. Anne turned to Bash, “Are we going to die a most gruesome death?”

“Of course not,” He said, rubbing his head from his fall. “That Gilbert is a smart boy, he’ll get you safe to Avonlea.”

“Dubious,” Anne said. “We might need to jump from the tracks, the train has yet to halt in its velocity.”

“Do you ever choke on those big words, dear?” Bash asked, but instead of with the contemptuous glee of the people with the orphanage, he looked more impressed.

She couldn’t help her smile at him, “Not often, Sebastian. Please, help me with the door. We should have a contingency plan.”

They went to the side door and pulled it open, and a couple bags fell out, but at least they weren’t theirs. Bash held onto her elbow so she wouldn’t slip as she eyed the roaring, snowy ground racing past them.

“What are you doing?” Gilbert demanded, coming back into the room. His face was covered in soot.

“You didn’t stop the train!” Anne demanded right back.

“There was no one there, the engine room is aflame, and now we’re careening off course,” The dark-haired boy snapped at her.

She was not going to be his whipping post. “Then we must do _something_!”

“Let’s separate the cart from the engine, that should slow us down,” Bash said.

Gilbert nodded and unbuttoned his vest, tossing it to the side. Anne shrugged out of her cloak and rolled up the sleeves of her dress, even though the windchill was biting at them through the open doors.

“Anne, you try to find any brakes in this trolley. Bash, help me with the rods,” Gilbert said. Anne rushed to the back of the cart, shoving aside luggage to find the handbrake, lost in the plethora of packages.

She yelped as a bag nearly fell on her foot, but then grinned in delight when it revealed the brake. She grasped the clasp and pulled with all her might.

For all the talk of her being skinny, she was strong. At least, she was stronger than she looked, but she could not budge it one bit.

“Help!” She called out.

Bash went to her side in a mere moment. “What is it?”

She lifted her foot against the brake to push it, throwing her body into her efforts. “I cannot move it!”

“Help Gil,” Bash ordered. She let go and went to the front by the engine trolley.

Gilbert sat atop the connecting rods, pushing his curly brown locks out of his face, staring at it in frustration. “Bash, where’s the wrench?”

“Let me look,” Anne answered and dug through the trunks. She reached through the door to hand him a hammer, trying to find something larger and stronger.

She heard the sound of metal clashing against metal as she continued to search through the wreckage. “It’s not working!” He called out from in front of her.

“I can’t get it to move!” Bash cried out from behind her. Frantic, she rushed to the open door to stare at the boy her age.

“What is the problem?” She asked.

“The latch won’t break,” Gilbert grunted, hunched over the rods. She had to admire his ability to keep balance, especially as their speed increased. “Is there nothing else?”

“Let me keep looking,” She said and moved trunks around once more, until she came across a small crate labelled EXPLOSIVES. She took out a stick and found a matchbox in a lady’s hatbox. An odd place to keep it, but convenient enough at least.

“Here,” She called to Gilbert and handed him a match and the dynamite.

He whistled low, almost like he was impressed, but lit the dynamite simply and shoved it in the battered rods. “Bash, take cover!” He called as he climbed back in the baggage trolley.

Anne watched, a bit breathless, as he slammed the door closed and shoved her to one of the organization dividers. Bash joined them.

Gilbert’s hand covered her head and shoved her down as they all crouched together to hide from the blast. She covered her ears, she had heard tell that a dynamite going off was a loud and frightful sound.

The stick exploded, wobbling the train and blowing off the door. But instead of slowing them down, they kept the same blistering pace.

“We’re not stopping,” Anne said, turning to her two travel companions, eyes wide in fear.

Bash’s lips pursed, his furrowed brow betraying his normal serenity.  

“There’s tracks up ahead,” Gilbert said, pulling back on his vest as Bash helped her stand. “We’ll slow to a stop.”

“ _What_ tracks?” Anne demanded and pointed to the way their train was careening, straight towards an incomplete bridge over a massive abyss.

“Aw, hell,” Bash said, a brusque curse in his sonorous accent. For a brief foolish moment, Anne almost missed the familiar chaos at the orphanage in comparison to this.

+

(Gilbert)

“We can fix this,” Gilbert said, trying to remain calm even though his voice broke. What was the problem with this godforsaken train? “Anne, try to turn the steering wheel. Bash, help me with an anchor.”

Anne immediately took off to the front of the cart as Bash turned to him. “An _anchor,_ boy? We ain’t on a boat no more,” His accent seemed to get thicker with worry.

“We can anchor _something_ on the tracks,” He responded, searching for a rope. Instead, he was for once fortunate and found a chain with its own hook.

“Help, I can’t move it!” He heard Anne cry, but he couldn’t bother himself with it. Dressing the clattering chains onto his back, reminding him of Mr Marley from _A Christmas Carol_ , he scaled down the back of the train.

“Bash, I need you to-” He looked for his friend, and saw the freckled face of Anne instead. “I need Bash.” He dismissed her.

“He’s assisting with the steering wheel, I can help you,” She insisted.

With an accepting grunt, he handed her the hooked end of the chain, careful not to pierce her palm. “For now, hook this to the train, I need to tie the chain.”

She nodded and found a handle bar. “All set,” She called down to him.

Still holding some of the chain, he held himself to the undercarriage of the train and tied it around some of the sturdiest looking rods. He tugged it tight, and exhaled in slight relief when he knew it would not budge.

Gilbert was so focused on his task, he did not seem some loose boards fly his way. In his haste to dodge the debris, he lost grip on the underside of the train.

He yelped in surprise, but then felt a hand grab his wrist. Immediately and instinctively, he gripped the wrist as well. “Hold on!” Anne shouted, pulling him up.

Using his legs to push himself up, they got him onto the trolley’s floor. He panted in relief, as did she.

“Thanks,” He said.

She just nodded and pushed herself to stand.

“The steering wheel,” Bash came over, extending a hand to help Gilbert up. “It won’t move an inch. We’re done for.”

Gilbert shook his head, still mostly at a loss for words and threw the hook onto the tracks. The three of them waited with baited breath as the hooked bounced along before hooking to a board.

Immediately, the train shifted and came off the tracks. They fell to the floor. Gilbert looked around, the train was now horizontal, the open side door the only exit that wouldn’t lead to sure doom.

“Grab the bags!” Bash said. “We need to jump!”

Gilbert and Anne nodded and gathered their things, throwing on their coats and cloaks with haste. They stood at the edge. None made the step to move.

“One,” Anne said.

“Two,” Bash said.

Gilbert preemptively winced, “Three.”

The three leapt off the platform and landed off to the side of the tracks. Thankfully, there was enough snow to provide a cushion, even though it was not pleasant in the slightest.

“I hate the cold,” Bash said as they stood and wiped themselves as clean as they could.

Gilbert smirked at his Trinidadian friend, who loved the hot summers and despised the frigid winters, still yet to adjust after six months in Montgomery.

It fell off his face as their train cart swerved across the bridge and fell into the canyon. Beside him, Anne yelped when the trolley hit the bottom.

“I hate that more,” Bash said, offering a shaky smile. “Children, let’s keep moving. We have a long walk to the closest port.”

Gilbert nodded and took his hat out of his coat’s pocket and placed it on his head. He half-expected Anne to complain, but she simply adjusted her cloak’s hood.

“Would you boys like to hear the most _marvelous_ story?” She asked.

“I love a good tale,” Bash offered. Together, the three of them made their way through the mountain.


	4. a brighter day is dawning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm having a tough time finishing this chapter
> 
> [Caroline:](https://antspaul.tumblr.com/) DO IT BITCH
> 
> so i did it bitch. thank Caroline.

(Nate)

Nate exited the train at the first stop, the Port of St. Peter, hands in the pockets of his trousers. Cigarette lit and dangling from the edges of his mouth, he walked to an area out of the way to find Jonesy, still going by Dunlop as it was his cleanest alias, with their mark. Hamford? Hammond? The drunkard’s name did not stick.

He normally preferred to attack mobs of people, for they were often dumber and more gullible in groups. But a drunk fit the bill.

“I saw the two kids head for the engine cart,” He told them, leaning against a pole. “And then I let it loose.”

“I still think that idea was too forward,” Jonesy said, eying Nate. Nate glared back. “We don’t want to kill them, we want to beat them to Charlottetown.”

“And you will,” Nate responded obviously, taking a big inhale. “I just slowed them down.”

“I saw the _explosion_ from our trolley,” The bearded man hissed. “You really think that did not kill them?”

“There’s still a chance they survived,” Nate shrugged.

“Annie’s a bloody annoying adventuress,” Hammond cursed. “I once belted her for a right 10 minutes and she didn’t even cry. I’d bet the cash she stole she’s still out there.”

“I have a new plan,” Nate said, as if he had just thought of it, and that he hadn’t been working on it since Jonesy told him about the search for the little orphan cherry. “You two go off to Charlottetown and wait for me there. I’ll keep an eye on them here, and I’ll even get the money for you.” He’ll just take her money himself.

“It ain’t just about the money,” Hamford said, rubbing his head. “The redheaded brat is the best worker we got. I’m bringing her back to the Orphanage.”

At that, Nate and his partner shared a look. From what Jonesy said, the girl was a dead ringer for the lost princess. Any reward offered by the drunk would be small peanuts compared to what the Duke and Duchess would offer.

“I’ll get you safe to Charlottetown,” Jonesy offered. “It’s better for us to get a lay of the land before they do. Nate’s better at being covert than I am.” But his eyes were narrowed, for that wasn’t true. He was just upset Nate came up with the idea first.

“No talking, just watching,” Nate said. “If they’re alive, they’re strong. We need to figure it out. But stay the night boys,” He offered. “We can see for ourselves.”

“I need a drink,” Hammond immediately walked off.

“It’s nine in the morning,” Jonesy said.

“Sounds perfect to me,” Nate stubbed out his cigarette and followed the drunk, for that was usually the best course of action in his case. Behind him, he heard his partner sigh but follow along.

+

(Anne)

Anne smiled as the snow melted away into the spring as the three of them walked down the mountain. Keeping herself occupied, she told them more about _Jane Eyre_.

“'It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot,'” Anne quoted. She was so enrapt with it that she nearly slipped on a rogue ice patch, her left foot giving out from under her.

Wordlessly, Gilbert grabbed her by the elbow with his free hand to steady her. She nodded once in thanks and he let her go after she righted herself.

She wondered what he was thinking. Was he letting her _Jane Eyre_ musings and recitations fade to the background, or was he listening intently? His face was stoic all the same.

“You know all that from memory?” Bash asked her. Together, he and Gilbert shared the load of their trunk, walking it between them. Anne walked next to Gilbert at the edges on the lone trail.

Anne dusted the skirt of her messy, wet dress as they continued. The steepness of the mountain had now sloped to a steady, stagnant flatness, and it was overall much easier to walk on, even with the ice patches.

“I do,” She said. “I didn’t get much sleep at the orphanage, so all I did was read. This was the one I read the most.”

She remembered sneaking the books from punishments under her dress, and hiding in the corners by the lights from the windows. Hoping the woman in the moon would shine bright that evening so she could read more of Charlotte Bronte’s wondrous words.

“Is that your favorite book?” Gilbert finally spoke.

“So far, yes,” She replied. “But I plan to read hundreds more. Maybe _thousands_. Do you have one?”

“I like _Hunchback of Notre Dame_ ,” He said. He cleared his throat. “I only truly remember the beginning quote. ‘Three hundred and forty–eight years, six months, and nineteen days ago to–day, the Parisians awoke to the sound of all the bells in the triple circuit of the city, the university, and the town ringing a full peal.’”

“A full peal,” Anne repeated, enjoying the way l’s of the words rolled off each other. She tried to picture the sound of a _full peal_ of bells ringing. She imagined it would be beautiful and resonant.

“You read me that one,” Bash said. “Wait, what’s that quote I loved there? Something like an empty pocket to make a man go on adventures?”

“‘Nothing makes a man so adventurous as an empty pocket,’” Gilbert corrected softly, lips quirking up in a smirk. Anne had never really associated with boys, mostly men of brutish nature. They told her reading was a stupid waste of time, and only for a man to do. But she never saw them read. But Gilbert seemed to know as much as she did, and he at least had a favorite book. “Very true of us, eh, Bash?”

“How did you two meet each other?” She asked. “The answer is not immediately obvious.”

“Why’s that, girl?” Bash said, turning to her. His eyes hardened slightly. “Because I’m black and he whiter than snow?”

“I’m not _that_ white-” Gilbert interrupted, huffing.

“Partially,” She answered Bash honestly, quick to try to soothe any insult. “But mostly the accents. I’m not sure where yours is from, Sebastian. Is it somewhere exotic and beautiful and tropical?”

“To some, yeah,” Bash said, seeming to let his shoulders no longer hunch up. “I’m from Trinidad, born there about twenty five years ago. Our boy there is actually from Avonlea. We met on a ship in Boston.”

“He’s not my boy,” Anne instantly said, then turned to Gilbert when the more important matter of the sentence struck. “You’ve been to Avonlea?”

“Born there,” He nodded. “About eighteen years ago.”

“Raised there,” Bash interrupted.

“ _Somewhat_ raised there,” He amended, adjusting his cap. The slate grey of his cap contrasted nicely with his twinkling hazel eyes. “Left when I was about ten or so with my father. It wasn’t until I was fourteen that I hopped on the closest ship and found work with Mr. LaCroix.”

“Mr. LaCroix,” Bash repeated with a laugh. “Did not hear that much in Trinidad.”

“Tell me about it,” Anne urged him. “I’ve always wanted to see beautiful places. Is it beautiful?” There was a milkman who would deliver every week for the orphanage, and she would delay his travels and make him talk about the places he had visited in Montgomery county. Who did he see? Did he see any animals? Did he wave to a bystander? Did he get waved back?

“Some days more than others, Princess,” Bash said. The moniker felt weird, like wearing shoes too big. She felt they were _supposed_ to fit, but they did not. But she had to get used to it.

“It was home for a long while,” Bash said. “The trees, the people, all dark like me and knew how to cook with flavor. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried curry, my dear. Have you ever?”

“You seem to forget I lived in an _orphanage_ ,” She said emphatically. “I rarely got _food,_ much less any with flavor.”

“That’s our life now,” Bash nodded. “You people don’t know how to season. On ships and in shops, it’s all about- What’s that word you always use, Blythe?”

“Efficiency,” Gilbert said.

“E-F-F-I-C-I-E-N-C-Y,” Anne spelled out triumphantly, almost tripping over the I-E dilemma that often plagued her.

Gilbert gave her a look, but his lips quirked in a smile.

“Ugh, another speller?” Bash laughed, catching her attention. “Either of you spell a word out like that again, I’ll leave you here.”

In her chest, her heart constricted at the thought of being left behind, and the inability to find out the truth of her life in Avonlea.

“So, Bash,” She tried out the nickname, even though it was decidedly more abrasive than Sebastian. “Please tell me more about your life in Trinidad. I’d be delighted to hear it.”

“Don’t get him started-” Gilbert said, but he was smiling.

“Let me start with the food,” Bash said, smiling as well. “First off, you ain’t had crab if it’s just with salt...”

With that, they continued down until the snow gave way for flowers.

+

(Gilbert)

It had been hours since the train derailed and Gilbert Blythe’s feet ached. But he kept walking, the trunk weighing down on his wrists and back. They were finally out of the cold mountains and into the outskirts of Port of St. Peter.

“Can we take a break?” His pride also felt wounded at the fact that the orphan princess had yet to complain. But she was only carrying her personal bag, not a large trunk.

She was also talking the entire way. First, she explained the entire first half of _Jane Eyre_ , then conversed with Bash about his hometown back in Trinidad. He had to admit, he did not expect the two of them to get along like a house on fire, but they did.

“Thank the lord, I was hoping one of you would suggest that,” Bash said and immediately dropped his half of the trunk.

Gilbert _oofed_ at the sudden yank of his arm and dropped his own half. Bash sat down on the trunk. Anne immediately sat in the dirt on the edges of the trail by the grass, and started to pick the flowers.

“What’s Avonlea like?” She asked, seeming to mostly be focused on her task.

“I’ve never been,” Bash said, spreading out to lay across the trunk. “Gilbert’s your expert there.”

Gilbert sat on the ground as well, using the bag’s sides to support his back. “Avonlea is a decent place. Mostly farmwork and textiles sustain it. It’s one of the smaller kingdoms, but it’s heavily connected and wealthy-”

“But what’s it _like_?” She said.

Gilbert studied her, “What do you mean?”

“Is it beautiful? What are the people like?”

Gilbert thought back to his childhood. The moments of running around with his father or playing with the other kids in the castle were warm. But the moments after Anne Cordelia disappeared, after he _lost_ her, were filled with fear and suffering. The royals thankfully did not verbally disparage him or blame him for the loss, but he had a feeling he and his father, who called off the search, made good scapegoats. His father moved him to the Rockies, almost to America, and they never returned to Avonlea.

It had honestly never occurred to him, the fact that by getting Anne to Avonlea he himself would have to visit it again. He was a man, now eighteen, not a foolish child. He was not going to be tied down to a place, much less one like his hometown.

But Anne was obviously obsessed with the wonderful. He could fabricate the truth to keep her along.

“The greens were stunning, a grand forest of trees. Lots of animals grazing, due to the farmland. Your aunt and uncle are well beloved,” That was true, no exaggeration. While they had gone reclusive in their depression after the loss of their brother and niece, they still ruled the land well and fairly.

Anne smiled at them, and pulled out a flower crown. “Do Princesses get tiaras?” Her flowers were a mix of everything, mostly purples and oranges, and it was extravagant.

“I’m sure they’ll give you one” Bash said; then opened his eyes to see her crown. “Did you make that? Can you make me one?”

She nodded and started on making it immediately. Gilbert opened his mouth to ask for one as well, but then closed it. He didn’t need one.

Anne worked and said, “It’s weird to go to a place for the first time, while knowing I was born there.”

“You truly don’t remember anything?” Gilbert asked.

“According to Mrs. Hammond, I was brought to them with a massive bump on my head,” She said. “Completely asleep. I did not wake for hours.”

“How did you remember your name?” Bash said.

“Up until you both, I wondered if it was really mine,” She said, focusing specifically on tying her flower crown, like she didn’t want to be watched. But he couldn’t help it, and tilted his cap so he could keep his eyes on her. “When I woke, I screamed it. And they just decided to call me it. Sometimes, I dream that I was calling out for my mother, who was in the riots. Or to a sister. To be quite honest, I prefer the sister story. I’ve never had one before.”

Gilbert nodded solemnly at that. Most of his siblings had died before two. His father revealed, when his sickness had unrelentingly taken over, that he had been breech and wasn’t expected to live long, especially when his mother died. But he had lived, and he was strong, but he was alone. Sometimes, he wished he had a sibling or two, to help with the burden of his father's illness, and then the burden of his loss.

“Now we know it _was_ your name,” Bash said. “Anne Cordelia Cuthbert.”

“A magnificent name,” Anne smiled, pulling more flowers. She turned to Gilbert with a smirk, as if it were daring him.

He took the bait, like a starving fish. “A wondrous name.”

“A _scrumptious_ name.”

“A _resplendent_ name.”

“A _stupendous_ -”

“I was not joking,” Bash pushed off the luggage. “You two keep blathering on, I’ll leave you right on this mountain.”

Gilbert did not fret. “Have fun carrying the trunk on your own.”

“Don’t be mad,” Anne said, standing. Her stockings and dress ruined by snow and dirt, but her face was shining with a smile. “Here, it’s impossible to be irate with a floral crown.”

Gilbert looked over to see the redhead place a crown on Bash’s head. The flowers were bright yellow with the green stems interlocking them, with a couple of daisies mixed in. Bash touched the flowers delicately.

“Thank you,” Bash said and Anne beamed.

Gilbert cleared his throat and stood as well. “We should keep moving,” He said. “We have a long ways to go yet.”

Anne walked over to him and handed him a flower crown, made of flowers both white and purple. “I was not certain if you wanted one, but-”

“Thank you,” He said, smiling, not wanting her to feel foolish, because she was, of course, correct. He took off his cap and replaced it with the crown. It fit perfectly. While it did not warm his head, it warmed his chest.

“Looks stupendous,” She said, a bit of a wicked glint in her eyes as she turned away. Gilbert gave her back a raised eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut and took the other half of the trunk.

Would hate to get Bash’s dander up.

+

(Anne)

“Oh look at it,” Anne breathed out, sighing at the sight of the approaching Port. Just one more hill and it was theirs. She could see the ocean, smell the salt water in the air. The birds were even different by here. “Doesn’t it just take your breath away? The shining ocean, the chatter townsfolk-”

“Believe that’s the trunk for us, Princess,” Bash said, a bit out of breath. “We should find a place to stow this so we don’t get it stolen in town.” They found a hidden area of forest by the second hill. Anne grabbed some fallen branches to further obscure it.

“What’s our plan?” Anne said as she did so. “I’m sure the train left the station by now.”

“There are plenty of ways to travel,” Bash said, stretching his arms. “We might have to take a boat to Charlottetown.”

“I’ve never traveled by sea before,” She said, clasping her hands together in excitement. “What’s it like? I’ve only read about it in books.”

“It’s hard to get your balance,” Gilbert said, adjusting his flower crown. The purple in the flowers brought out the green his eyes. “The sea wants to knock you off your feet, even in the boat.”

“And it’ll do it, half the time,” Bash laughed.

“Can we please explore the port before we go?”

“A brilliant idea,” Bash said. “It’ll take me a while ‘fore I can find us passage that will grant me access. You two can scrounge up for food. We’re gonna need all our strength to meet Rachel tomorrow.”

Anne frowned. “Rachel? I thought you said the Duchess’s name was Marilla.”

Both Bash and Gilbert winced. “You explain it to the girl, Blythe, I’ll find us passage.”

Bash took off towards the town, and Anne turned to Gilbert with what she hoped was pure fury in her eyes.

“Who is Rachel and what do you need to explain to me?”

Gilbert sighed, “Rachel Lynde is the advisor to Marilla. No one claiming to be Anne Cordelia gets to see the Duchess without getting past Rachel.”

“I have to _prove_ I’m the lost princess?” Anne demanded. “You never told me that part. Is there going to be a test? Do you _see_ what I’m wearing, Gilbert? No person in their right mind would think I was royalty!”

“Perhaps we should have told you-”

“You’re damn right you should have told me!” She swore at him, causing his eyes to widen. She never particularly liked cursing, there were so many more orotund words. But she heard plenty of it in the orphanage and knew it had its place. “Gilbert, I’m not a princess, much less Anne Cordelia.”

“You could be,” Gilbert said, grabbing her elbow. She shook him free. He deflated. “We just wanted the chance to help you figure it out, remember? Rachel Lynde will not be an obstacle. I don’t need you overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” She repeated, her jaw nearly dropping.

“We have plenty of time to make sure you get to the Duke and Duchess,” Gilbert attempted to placate. “Just calm yourself.”

Anne narrowed her eyes at him. “It would be your best course of action if you stopped _ordering_ me to relax and instead _assisted_ me. What kind of things would I have to answer?”

Gilbert looked past her, almost as if he were willing Bash to return. “We can discuss it in the village. I know you want to explore.”

It seemed to be an extension of an olive branch. She hesitated to take it, but she wanted to know the truth. It would be impossible for him to tell her if she ignored him.

“Then elucidate, Blythe, while we walk,” She ordered. “I want to know what to expect.”

He sighed, but nodded. He started walking and she matched his stride, even though his legs were longer than hers. “From what I’ve heard, Mrs. Lynde is a bit of a wildfire, but it’s deceptive. She knows exactly what she’s looking for.”

 _What if I’m not what she’s looking for?_ Anne privately pondered, and swallowed down the bile of inadequacy pushing at her throat.

“We-” He almost stuttered, and her eyes stared at him as he regained his verbal footing. “-have friends who thought they had found the princess. They tried to convince her but Rachel was smart. But they told us the questions.”

“And what are they?”

“They usually ask about family lineage, which we already covered,” He said. “But I’m sure they’ll expect you to act...” He trailed off.

“Act _what_?” Her mind rolled through a selection of answers. _Beautiful, pristine, womanly, refined, demure-_

“Composed,” He finally said.

“I’m very composed,” She said.

He snorted.

At the outskirts of the town, she halted in her pace and turned to him sharply. “How am I supposed to interpret that?”

“My apologies,” He said, but there was still mirth in his eyes. Her own eyes narrowed back. She was in excruciating distress and he was _laughing_.

“You didn’t answer my question,” She said, crossing her arms. “Why did you _snort_ like a farm pig when I said I can be composed?

His eyes narrowed at farm pig and turned from the direction of the Port to her. “Isn’t it obvious? You have the inclination of being fiery.” He reached over and tugged on her hair and added, “ _Carrots_.”

Before she even fully realized it, her hand reached up and whipped across his face. The sharp _smack_ the impact made brought her into the moment. Blood boiling, she turned and stormed into town, unchaperoned and red cloak fluttering in the breeze. She did not need Gilbert Blythe and his hair tugging or his condescension.

A proud smile tugged at her lips, and she had the feeling she gave Jane Eyre a bit of justice.

+

(Gilbert)

Gilbert rubbed his cheek absently, sure it was pinking brightly. His focus was on his search around the Port of St. Peter. It had expanded since he saw it last, and he had a feeling it was going to be slightly harder to find Anne than it would have prior. But then he remembered all he had to do was search for either the bright red cloak, or the bright mane of orange-red hair.

Something twisted in his chest at that, but he pushed it down to return to looking for her. He made the resolution to himself not not lose her again, even if it meant swallowing his pride and apologizing.

Swallowing tightly, he kept looking around, picking up the pace of his feet. He at least had to find her before Bash found _him._ Anxiously, he went to run his fingers through his hair and knocked off the flower crown. He bent down to pick it up and adjusted a dent before putting it back on. Maybe it would bring him favor in trying to get her to return.

He finally caught her at a merchant’s table, talking with the shopkeep.

“Did you make this yourself?” She spoke enthusiastically, holding up a crafted beanie. “It’s absolutely amazing stitch work, you have an abundance of talent. How much do you ask for it?”

The woman running the stall smiled. “For you, child, nothing.”

Anne beamed, and it was like sunshine, which contrasted with the burgeoning sunset. He approached her as she replaced her flower crown with the beanie, then returned the crown atop the cap. It was an unusual look, but it suited her well.

“It looks lovely, Anne,” He said, trying to be charming.

Anne turned away from him immediately and walked away. Huffing, he followed after her.

“Can you please just _stop_ -” He grabbed for her arm.

She spun around and faced him, freeing herself because his grip was not trying to contain her, just get her attention.

“‘I do not think, _sir_ , you have any right to command me, merely because you are older than I,’” She quoted, straightening her shoulders to square up to Gilbert. “‘Or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.’”

He said nothing for a moment. “Is that from  _Jane Eyre_?” He knew the girl was smart, but she said that with too much precision and not enough anger for that to be spontaneous. 

“Chapter Fourteen.”

“It’s impressive you can remember that distinctly,” He offered, unsure how to phrase his apology.

“I may not be _composed_ but I am _magnificent_ ,” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I don’t know who this Rachel Lynde is, but if I am the Princess, my decorum will not be able to change that truth.”

“You’re absolutely right, Anne,” He reassured. Even though he didn’t fully believe it. From what Bash had told him about his previous attempt to get the reward for the Lost Princess, Mrs. Lynde did not impress easily. Thankfully, they had provisions for that. “You will do magnificently.”

She finally seemed to relent. “Should we find Sebastian?”

“I already found you two.” They turned to see the eldest of their nomadic group approach. “Your bickering could be heard from Avonlea.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes.

“I was unable to find lodging, or a passenger ship that would allow me to board,” He said apologetically. “But I did find a cargo ship going that will let us travel for free in exchange from me working the engine tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” Anne reached over to claps his hand tight. 

His dear friend smiled as he pulled out his flower crown from his britches’ pocket with his other hand, adorning it atop his head. “We have some time to explore, don’t you think, Gilbert?”

Gilbert studied the wide-eyed enthusiasm in his travel companions. Part of him wished to lay low with two such noticeable people, but he couldn’t bear to dampen their flame.

“Let’s explore,” He said with a smile. “We have crowns to show off.”

Anne smiled at him, but he had a feeling he was yet to be truly forgiven.

+

(Dunlop)

Dunlop spied on the red haired girl and the Blythe bastard, walking through the square. Hammond was napping by a tree somewhere out of the way, and Nate had a plan with the Annie girl.

“What did you do?” Dunlop said.

“I saw the black one talking to one of the captain’s around here, they’re traveling on a cargo ship,” Nate said, rolling a cigarette. “Too small, we can’t smuggle on it without ‘em seeing us. But I have a plan to shake up the little brat.”

Dunlop grabbed Nate by the other arm and hissed, “We should get her to _trust_ us. What happened to the plan of getting her to go with us instead of the old drunk?”

“Too boring,” Nate said. “It’s not just about Hamford, it’s getting her from Blythe and Bash. We need to get them _away_ from her, ‘n get them to leave her be.”

“She’s worth three hundred thousand dollars,” Dunlop said. “I don’t think they’ll abandon her quickly.”

“You don’t know my plan yet,” Nate said. “Come we better find another ship going to Charlottetown.”

Dunlop bit back the curse words bubbling at his throat but followed along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Vlad wears a flower crown in Anastasia and Anne wears flower crowns in Anne with an E and so Bash and Gilbert also had to wear flower crowns here. I don’t make the rules.


	5. it’s one-two-three and suddenly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the dance of love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit worried about how to portray the hallucination on the ship, but I hope this worked out.

(Anne)

All Anne wanted to do was sleep, but there was still more to do. The reminder that they had to go through the potential gauntlet of Rachel Lynde’s interrogation seemed to go back to practicing how to make her ladylike.

Ladylike had never been one of her concerns before. Matronly was one, because there were some young girl at the orphanage who Mrs. Hammond refused to look after, especially if they had darker skin. So Anne became their mothers, in a way. But the young ones always got taken the fastest, and Anne was left with the other, bitter girls her age.

They did not know how to have an imagination, and that was their downfall. But they resented anyone who did, _especially_ her. It made for a difficult upbringing.

She looked down at the dress Bash and Gilbert had given her. They left the room soon after to give her privacy and told her to meet them on the deck. She had never worn a dress so soft and so colorful before. By the castoff dresses made their way to her, they were threadbare and insipid.

This was cobalt blue, robust and bright against her red hair and pale skin.

It did not have a corset, which was honestly a relief. The sleeves were not puffy, but it was a respectable, stately dress. 

But she did not feel like a princess. There was a niggling thought of _This does not belong to you. This past, this future, you deserve nothing_. 

When she heard this voice, it was Mrs. Hammond’s. Anne scrunched her eyes shut and forced herself to think of beautiful things. Flower crowns, still water, a well-loved book, Bash’s smile, and Gilbert’s eyes.

To her shame at the last two, she calmed down significantly at the thought of them. She did not want to rely on Sebastian LaCroix and Gilbert Blythe. They were just chaperones, it was dangerous for a young girl to travel alone. And she did not know the way to Avonlea. It was nothing more.

But she did enjoy hearing about Trinidad, and the pair’s travels in general. Of all the people to travel across Canada with, she had to admit she was glad it was them.

She stood in the dress, letting the fabric drift around her ankles. The room was small, so she could only manage a small spin as it danced around her. She smiled. The boys were oddly impressive shoppers for a girl they did not know existed.

That caused the smile to fall off her face. How did two adult men know to have a dress with them?

Before she could properly ruminate on it and let her imagination run wild, someone knocked on the door.

She jumped towards it and opened it, expecting to see either Bash or Gilbert there.

Instead, a man with a weathered face stood at the opening. He was older than Bash by at least fifteen years. There was sweat at the temples of his face, and his cheeks were flushed. If he were a woman, she would have expected him to faint from hysteria.

“Is there something amiss?” She demanded.

“Oh, lass,” His voice was thick Irish, course yet mellifluous. He swallowed tightly. “I’m the captain. I just ‘eard we had a Princess on board. Wanted to say hello.”

“There’s no need to be anxious,” She tried to assuage him. “We’re not quite sure if I’m the princess or not.”

“Still,” He seemed to insist. “And I’m not jittery ‘bout you, I just-” He stopped for a moment, and closed his eyes tightly. “There’s a storm brewing.”

Anne’s chest tightened, like a sore muscle. “A- A storm?”

She remembered storms at the orphanage. The deafening thunder, the encompassing darkness, and the leaking roof _drip-drip-dripping_ on her blanket as she attempted to read.

Her imagination pictured vividly being trapped on the ship, in a storm. The idea constricted her heart, and caused her pulse to race.

“I’ve seen lots of storms,” The captain said, opening his eyes. “But I don’t think I’ve ev’ seen one build like this. Not since before. I lost ‘alf my crew then, it was a bad storm.”

“Half of your crew?” She repeated, clasping her hands together.

“We will be fine, but it’s- It’s not good, the sky,” He said. “I’ll leave you, Princess.” He left in a rush, and she was all alone.

Anne swallowed tightly and looked down. She was clutching the skirt of the dress. She took a calming breath. Gilbert and Bash were expecting her. She had to go up on the deck.

She straightened her shoulders. She could see the brewing storm herself. She was no expert, but she had read about them. She would be fine.

She forced herself up the stairs, clutching the railing. She would be fine.

+

(Gilbert)

Gilbert Blythe stared at the ocean skyline, both as the obvious sight ahead of him and to make sure he didn’t get nauseated.

“You spoiled boy,” Bash elbowed him. “You already sick after two hours on the boat? How are we supposed to get to Paris if you get green now?”

“I’m fine,” Gilbert said, because he was, even though he didn’t quite feel like bantering. The waters were calm, for now, but there a darkness to the clouds, thick and grey. A storm was coming, but he was distracted by the weird behavior of Captain Sean as they walked onto the ship. He was sweating like a sinner in church, and his eyes did not leave Anne. Thankfully, the girl was too busy boarding and surveying the ship excitedly to notice. But he did.

“We can’t tell anybody about Anne,” He added, thinking of the way the captain’s fists clenched at his sides as he eyed her, as if to stop himself from reaching out and taking. Which was odd. He’d worked on Sean’s ship before, he’d never seen him like that before.

“I told nobody,” His friend said. “The less people that know the better, she’s an expensive girl.”

Gilbert nodded in relief. Their trip was already fraught with peril, and having people trying to go after Anne would spell trouble better than they could.

“Oh, it’s a splendid view,” He heard Anne sigh behind him.

Both he and Bash turned to see Anne walk toward them. There was a breeze in the air. Her hair and dress fluttered in it, as if they were dancing. The blue was rich against her skin, her freckles bright in the lingering sun. But it was her eyes. The dress brought out the shade of blue so richly, and for once, her hair was out of her braid, it was completely free around her shoulders.

Gilbert felt his jaw drop, but he could not bring himself to close it.

“My dear,” Bash walked to her and kissed her hand. Gilbert washed as Anne’s cheek lit up pink. “You look- What is one of those words that you and Gilbert always use?”

“Remarkable,” He suddenly found his voice. “You look remarkable.”

“Oh, I like that one,” Bash said, taking Anne’s hand to spin her out. “ _Remarkable_.” Anne laughed.

“I certainly feel royal now,” She said. “But that’s potentially just getting out of my snow-soaked clothes.”

Gilbert felt the urge to bow at her wearing the dress, even though him and Bash only got the dress since it was inexpensive and simple. She looked truly beautiful. He knew she was pretty, but it was so blatant now, even in a modest dress.

“You look amazing,” He said, stepping up to her.

Anne ducked her head, “Thanks.”

“Oh!” Bash gasped, and shoved the two of the together, so abruptly their shoulders smacked against each other. “I’d forgotten one important lesson.” His eyebrows furrowed at that, how was that possible?

“That’s impossible,” Anne said. “I can list Avonlea royal history in my sleep.”

Gilbert snorted because that was certainly true, but Bash looked the most amused of the three of them. “You must learn to waltz.”

“I’ve never danced before,” She said. He thought he saw apprehension in her eyes before she straightened as if she were steeling herself. “How do you do it?”

“I’ll teach you,” Bash said, not an ounce of worry in his voice. “Blythe, dance with the girl.”

His head whipped around to look at his companion. “Excuse me?”

“I can’t very well teach and dance, can I? I must inspect,” Bash raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to contradict. “Go.”

The deck was mostly empty, a couple spare crew members all in their thirties. He almost wanted to make Anne dance with them instead, but he walked up to her.

He gave a bow, “My lady.”

Above him, Anne giggled.

“This isn’t supposed to be amusing.”

“And yet, it is.”

“Quiet, children,” Bash said. “Anne, put your left hand on his shoulder. Gil, put your hand on her waist.”

“Why can’t you show her?” Gilbert asked, both of them keeping their hands limp at their sides. “You’re a much better dancer than I am.”

“I know it, white boy, you don’t have a bit of rhythm in you,” Bash said. “But I can’t dance and teach at the same time, I need to instruct. Now, do as I say.”

He took a deep breath and put a hand at her waist. Anne placed her hand at his shoulder. Without instruction, they held their other hands together.

“Lovely,” Bash practically crooned. “Now, the steps. Forward, together, side, together. It’s one-two-three. Now go.”

“Don’t step on my toes,” He warned her.

“Don’t step on _mine_ ,” She ordered, and they danced. At first, it was a bit clunky, and Anne laughed at them both when they nearly tripped. But once Bash started humming a song with the proper tempo, they started to get into it. Even though she kept changing the directions of their turns.

“Blythe, don’t look so tense, you’re dancing with a beautiful girl,” Bash called over to them. “And Anne, _he’s_ supposed to lead.”

“Well, he’s not particularly good at it,” She complained.

He chuckled, and spun her out, causing her to gasp as he pulled her back in. “Maybe you should actually let me try.”

“Perhaps,” She said, tilting her head in acknowledgement.

“You do look beautiful,” He responded.

“Thank you,” She said. “For the compliment and the dress. I’ve never worn something so exquisite before.”

He smirked at the way she focused on her feet as she danced, making sure every step was correct. When she stumbled over his toes, he said, “Maybe this will go better if you trust me.”

She gave him a look but he moved his hand from her waist to tilt her chin up. “Keep your head up.” She made a face but kept her chin parallel to the floor.

Gilbert’s hand went back to her waist, and they continued to dance.

“One-two-three,” Bash resumed counting. “Impressive, Anne, you managed to give him rhythm.”

“I think he discovered mine as well,” She responded. “Can you twirl me again? I find it absolutely romantic. I-In a platonic way, of course.”

“Of course,” Gil repeated, and spun her out, her movements more solid of herself this time, before guiding her back in.

“Adorable,” Bash cooed.

Gilbert stepped on her feet in surprise, and she yelped. When she didn’t smack him again for this disrespect, he hoped the noise was more out of surprise.

Still, feeling a bit guilty, he lifted her on top of his feet and had them sashay across the deck, him carrying her, all of their laughter ringing out across the ocean.

+

(Anne)

That night, Anne tossed and turned, unable to close her eyes, only to picture a major storm. The captain described such horrific loss. To her bones, she wished the train had not derailed, and then she could be warm. And she’d certainly already be in Avonlea. She could already know the truth about her identity if it weren’t for that infernal train.

She looked around at the ship’s room. Gilbert slept in the corner, while Bash still had yet to return. A chill whipped through the cabin, and she grabbed her cloak to drape around her.

She thought of the captain’s words once more. Lost lives, _half_ the crew. She shuddered, and wished so badly to be anywhere else.

Anne opened her eyes to see the dull grays of the ship fade to bright greens of grass and the spectrum of colors across flowers.

 _Hello there,_ A voice said from behind her. Anne spun around to greet it, and she was faced with a young girl with bright red hair and bright blue eyes, with freckles dotted across the planes of her face. Orange butterflies flitted around her, almost a halo on her head.

She had never seen her before, but she was familiar.

It suddenly occurred to her: It was herself, but at the age of six.

 _Come!_ She ordered and ran through the path, giggling with mirth.

Anne followed after her, drawn to her younger self. She climbed up a mountain that went from six feet tall to six hundred feet tall. _Keep going!_ The younger her giggled. _We are almost there._

She followed herself to the great lake, where she and the other orphan girls would play and bathe. She stepped up to the edge, and saw the girls swimming in the underclothes, laughing and giggling. She ached to belong with them, to have friends of her own.

She felt a rush of cold air, and she turned to look around.

 _Come in the water, Annie!_ The girls shouted as one, swimming along beautifully in the water. She turned back. It looked so luminescent, the sun glittering across the soft waves. So warm. So inviting.

+

(Gilbert)

Gilbert tossed and turned, matching the harsh waves that rocked the boat. It had been too long, his sea legs had gone out from under him. He knew from Anne’s ramblings that she did not sleep much either, so got to his palms and whispered, “Anne, are you awake?”

No response. He looked around the poorly lit room and saw that the lower bunk was empty and the blankets had fallen to the floor.

He rubbed the darkness from his eyes, they must be deceiving him. He waited a moment for his sight to adjust but saw the same image. Anne’s bed was empty.

“Bash, where did Anne go?” Gilbert stood, holding onto their nearby trunk to steady himself.

But Bash wasn’t there. With a wince, he remembered that Bash was probably still working in the engine room.

“Anne?” He called out. No response. Even though the boat rocked, even more considerable than the normal amount he recalled in his seafaring days, he managed to stay upright.

Where could she have gone?

Taking a deep breath, he decided to head for the ship’s deck. From what he’d known of her, she was bound to have found trouble.

There was water pooling at the edges of the door. Taking a deep breath, he shoved against it and started up the slippery stairs.

+

(Anne)

Anne was in a paradise. It was better than the orphanage. It was better than the mountain snow. It was better than the raging waters. It was soft. It was still. It was green. She walked to the lake’s edge. She could feel it mist across her face.

 _We want to play, Anne!_ They told her.

Anne turned to her younger self, who grinned and jumped in the water.

 _It’s lovely!_ The young Anne called out, taking to the water instantly.

Anne’s fingers reached forward. It was almost hers.

The lights of day flickered, and she saw her younger self once more in the water, just trying to bathe.

Presently, her hand recoiled.

Young Anne had her back turned. She did not see the girls approach her from behind, sneaking up along the grass.

Something clutched at her heart. “Look behind you!” Anne called.

Annie did not hear her. And the orphan girls flew from the bank and landed on top of her, shoving her under the water.

 _Drown_ , The girls shouted as they shoved her underwater, holding her by hair. _Maybe that will shut you up_.

Anne screamed and her eyes flew open and she was far from the orphanage’s lake. She was on a ship during a storm, right at the edges, staring out at the horizon. There was no comfort in the nightmare being over, she had just slipped into another one.

Anne grabbed onto the ship’s rail as thunder boomed. Waves knocked against the ship, rain poured around her, and she made the mistake of looking down.

The water was dark blue, almost iniquitous in its darkness. She did not know how to swim. She looked behind her, grip tight on the rails her knuckles were white as snow, she turned to the ship’s deck.

Another wave crashed over her, and she accidentally gulped down water. She was able to cough it out, but she did not know how she’d get back to safety. Not without drowning.

She scrunched her eyes shut, thinking of when the girls tried to drown her for her stories. She’d survived with a punch, but it had just made them madder. She didn’t have a course of survival here.

Mrs. Hammond had always told her that her imagination was going to be the death of her, but she never expected it would be quite like this.

+

(Gilbert)

Gilbert raced atop the deck, nearly sliding on the wet wood. The night was impossibly dark, it was almost as if he were blindfolded. “Anne? Are you up here?” He called for her, but it felt useless.

But a flash of lightning lit up the ocean’s sky, and he saw a figure standing by edges, with bright orange hair flying around her.

If he thought she looked like a gothic character when they were on the train, she looked like a tragic one now.

“Anne!” He shouted, and took off after her.

He watched as her knees buckled. He dove for her and wrapped an arm around her waist, as if it were a lariat.

Immediately, she straightened, “Gilbert?” He held onto her as the storm raged. A wave nearly knocked them down but he held onto her with one hand and scrambled for a grasp on the railing with the other.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Her eyes finally opened, instead of the normal bright blue, he saw the black of her pupils. “Gilbert?” His heart pounded in his ears as he waited for her to focus on him.

“I have you,” He assured her. “Let’s go down below.” He did not trust these raging waters.

“I saw their faces,” She told him earnestly, eyes still wide. “Their visages, so dark. It was like dragons from a fairy tale. The girls, they tried to get me.”

He just held her tight. He expected her to thrash once more, but instead she tilted her head into his chest, and her arms held him closer.

“It was just a dream,” He said. “Come, we need to get you dry.” He helped her up to stand. They both nearly slipped on the deck.

He grabbed onto her hand, and felt a weird tingle. Dismissing it as due to the storm, he tried to tug her forward but she still clutched the railing.

“Anne,” He told her softly, as if there weren’t a storm around them. He pushed his sopping wet hair out of his eyes, pushing away excess rain water as well to focus on her. “You have to let it go for us to get down.”

“What if we get swept off the deck? What if we fall in the water and drown?” She demanded. “What if there’s a shark in a massive wave and it flies at us? What if-”

“That last one is ridiculous and you know it,” He told her, even as he swallowed tightly at the image of it in his mind. “I- Here.” He let go of her to grab some spare rope off nearby. He tied it to the railing, then tied it to her wrist. “It’s an anchor, we can use it until we get back to the door downstairs.” Her fear of drowning was not unfounded. “I’ve been on dozens of ship rides, Anne.” He told her. “I’ve survived my fair share of storms. This is nothing.”

That was a lie. The only other storm he’d seen was nearly as bad as this, and they did lose a crew member. But Archie Van Trip was a drunk ass, and flew off the ship as naked as a jaybird in a story Gilbert did not fully understand. By the time they were able to find the buoy or a cork jacket, they’d lost sight of him.

But Anne did not need to know that.

“What about you?” She asked, looking up at him. Her eyes were finally adjusting, and he could see the blue again.

“I’ll hold onto you,” He said simply.

She nodded and they held hands once more. Taking a deep breath, he guided them across the deck of the ship, back to the safety of below the deck.

A wave drifted over the top, crashing around their ankles. But the rope worked, and Anne’s grip was tight. Gilbert pushed open the door and pulled Anne inside. He slammed the door shut and tugged her down the stairs to the second door. The halls were a bit damp, but mostly it was manageable. At least it was no longer pouring around them.

The two of them just stood in the hallway, catching their breath and dripping on the floor.

Gilbert took his shirt’s soaked edge and wrung it out.

Anne started to giggle, and he gave her an incredulous look. “Why are you laughing?”

She pressed her lips together, but a peal of laughter burst from her. “I don’t know,” She admitted.

Gilbert found himself laughing too before he paused. “Are you hysterical?” He wondered what else would possess a person to go out on a deck unprepared in a storm.

“Potentially,” She said, losing the giggles as her eyes adjusted to the lantern-lit hall. “I just- I can’t fathom why I found that so hilarious but I did.”

With a raise eyebrow, he shook his hair at her, scattering water droplets across them both as if he were a dog. She laughed and swung the skirt of her sopping dress at him, hitting his knees. They dissolved into laughter again, trying to get each other wet with wringing clothes and flicking hair, until a realization hit him like a lightning strike.

“Oh, you can’t sleep in that,” He said.

Her smile fell off her face. “I don’t own any other sleep clothes.”

“You can borrow something of mine,” He said. “But we should really return to the room.”

She nodded and followed him after. Later, when they’d both changed, they rested in their respective beds.

He tried to settle, but he saw the way her hands sat folded above the thin, regulation sheet. They shook, unsteady.

“What happens next in _Jane Eyre_?” He asked.

She brightened. “Well, after the fire, Jane expects an _enormous_ scandal-” She began, and he closed his eyes but stayed awake, listening to her passionately tell the tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the dance scene was definitely inspired by the dawson's creek episode Four To Tango


	6. The parade traveled on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the beginning where this AU starts to curve more toward AnnE and less like Anastasia.

(Anne)

Anne yawned as she roamed the streets of Charlottetown. Her feet ached, and she still felt cold from weathering the storm. But they were off the ship. That was the important thing.

She did not have proper clothes, her pajamas were soaked and her dress from their mountain walks were muddied, and they did not want to dirty the blue dress since it would likely be her outfit to address the court. Gilbert gave her a spare set of his clothes, britches and shirt and all. She decided to lean into it, and stole his cap as well to hide her hair. They looked like three men on a stroll. Granted, Anne with her scrawny, skinny nature looked the most like a boy, with both Bash and Gil muscular and bearded from their times on ships. She only had strength from feminine labor. But judging from the fact no one looked at her twice, she considered it was enough of a success.

“How do we get to the Castle?”

“What is the castle called?” Bash implored.

Anne, well familiar with the quizzing, answered dutifully, “Castle Green Gables.”

“Good,” Gilbert said, offering a soft smile. She pressed her lips together and turned away. In the morning light, safe from the storm, she felt nothing but shame in her behavior the night before. She’d nearly gotten herself killed, all because of a stupid phobia of the storm. She was sixteen. She had to be an adult.

“I want to find food,” Bash said. “Maybe we can stop by the Bog.”

“The Bog?” She repeated. “I don’t believe you taught me that one.” She racked her brain, but came up with not a single acceptable response.

“It’s not exactly a regal place,” Gilbert said, eying Bash.

“Aye, that’s true, but I love the idea of it,” He said, voice wistful. “It’s a place in town filled with people like me, your Grace. No one will shun me there.”

She couldn’t help the smile on her face. She knew what it was like to be shunned. Not on a global level, like Bash clearly knew, but she felt the pain of longing to belong.

“I want to explore,” She said.

“Feel free,” Bash said. “I’ll go to the Bog.” He turned and left them, practically a skip in his gait.

“Want me to go with you?” Gilbert offered her.

Anne shook her head. “I’m a boy here. I don’t need a chaperone.”

He shrugged and followed after Bash. She finally allowed herself a deep breathe. Something about him was, at once, comforting and unnerving, which made it more unsettling. But at the same time, he had not done much to irritate her, other than his cocky faith in his own intelligence.

Which, she had to admit, wasn’t entirely unfounded. But he could believe in himself without tearing her down.

Especially for someone who couldn’t spell _ebullient._

Anne walked the town, gazing through the windows. She went looking through an antique shoppe, wishing she could spend her money on a lovely book. But she clutched the bills she stole from Hammond in the pocket of the breeches. What if she weren’t the Princess? She needed a contingency plan.

She fumbled for the brooch, kept safe in her underclothes all this time. She berated herself internally once more for her foolish actions on the boat, and the fact she could have lost it.

Feeling pitiful, she left the shoppe and decided to find Bash and Gilbert. It was getting later in the afternoon and rest was making a home in her bones.

She turned to look for the bog, and stumbled across the outskirts of it, hearing familiar voices.

“I’m worried about Anne,” She heard Gilbert’s voice. She paused. It was probably a sin to eavesdrop, but she could not will her feet to move toward the sound. “The nightmare drained her. It’s enough of a risk for her to be shown as the Princess, but to get her through the human stranglehold that is Rachel Lynde without rest? I think we should wait one more day.”

Anne swallowed tightly. She was a risk?

“She did look a bit ragged,” Bash’s voice mused. That hurt as well, no one wanted to be told they looked in such a way. “Let’s get some food in her, and then we can find some lodging.”

Her eyes closed and she felt her stomach twist. She had relied on these two men for far too long. They were right. What if she wasn’t the princess? They might move on. She needed to remember that.

She was about to turn away when the two of them turned a corner.

“Hello,” They greeted. “Where have you been?” Gilbert asked, eyes darting. Like they wanted to gauge her reaction. 

“Antique shop,” She answered. “Glad I found you, I’ve been looking everywhere.” The words sounded hollow.

“Oh good, then," Gilbert said.

"Come, Anne," Bash grinned his charming grin. "I'm starving. You ready for dinner?"

She nodded and followed them, and tried to absorb as much of the landmarks in the town as possible, just in case she had to come back with only the clothes on her back.

+

(Nate)

Nate stared at the three obvious travelers, eyes focused on the girl dressed in boy’s clothes, as they paraded down the street. Her red hair peeked out from the edges of the gray cap, and he debated just snatching her from the crowds, slapping his hand over her mouth and dragging her to the castle his damn self, getting the reward. 

But the girl would fight him every step of the way. And the royals wouldn’t give the reward to a man who captured her. He could kill her, but he’d get no money at all. Maybe Jonesy or Dunlop or Whatever The Hell It Was Now had an idea.

“No more of your infernal schemes,” Jonesy said as he approached him. “We’re sticking to my plan.”

“Where’s Hamlet?” He ignored him.

“Ham _mond_ ,” He huffed. “If you paid attention instead of cooking up half-baked plans, you’d know we’re going to wait.”

“Why should we wait?” Nate demanded. “Those three are in Charlottetown _now,_ and I don’t want Bash and Blythe to get the reward before we can.”

“I’ve been thinking,” He said, holding out his hands placatingly, as if he were a wild animal. He could not deny the comparison. “What if we _did_ let them get the reward?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Nate hissed.

“Listen,” Jonesy said. “What if she’s not the Princess? What if we get her from those two and it’s all for naught? She's just some useless orphan. Where are we then?”

Nate clenched his jaw. As always, he had a point.

“We let them do the dirty work,” He continued. “And we take her again after she’s been reunited. It’ll be sweeter, forcing the royal family to separate once more. The sum will be huge. Then _we_ get her to return to the family, and they don’t get anything.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth in thought. “What about Hamblin?”

“We get him drunk in some farm in Avonlea,” His partner in crime waved a hand in dismissal. “No one knows to look for him. And people will just think he’s an ill-temperate bastard if he spouts the truth.”

Nate pondered for a moment, before his face split into a wicked grin. Maybe Dunlop was good for something.

+

(Gilbert)

Gilbert Blythe, pleasantly full from some of the best but cheapest food the Charlottetown markets had to offer, studied the Inn in front of him. It was the only one in town, run by a French-Canadian family called the Carons. He remembered them vaguely from his last trip to the town. They barely spoke English but they were very nice.

He and Anne were outside with the trunk, sitting atop it. looked over at her from his spot next to her. 

Her hands cupped her chin and her elbows sat on her knees. Her hair was free from his cap, which was back on its rightful place atop his own curls. She had dark circles under her eyes, which gazed out at nothing. She looked pallid, but almost like a storm was raging inside her.

He knew he was making the best decision. Rachel Lynde was her own pack of wolves and it would be unfair to force her to try to convince the most difficult person in the kingdom of one of the greatest mysteries plaguing Canada.

She turned to look at him, and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He shrugged, and debated verbally responding. But he was saved when Bash stepped out of the Inn.

“So I secured lodging,” He said, rubbing his hands together to fight the impending chill as the sun set. “It’s one room for you two. And, unfortunately, it is only one bed."

“We’re to share a room? Gilbert and I?” Anne’s jaw dropped, and Gilbert couldn’t ignore the slight indignation blooming in his chest. “That is completely preposterous!”

“I am sorry, my princess,” Bash tried to soothe her, his voice smooth as sap. “We cannot afford a second lodging. And even if we could, I cannot be allowed a room at this Inn. I’ll be in the barn, and I would not do that to either of you after your rough night’s sleep.”

She pursed her lips shut. He hoped Bash’s words were a reminder she was not the only one who had been through something in this life.

“It won’t be that awful, Anne,” Gilbert said, unable to help the smile on his face. Her blushing imperiousness was oddly amusing. “It’s just for a night.”

“But who knows what will happen,” She fretted. “If we’re in the same bed-”

Gilbert’s eyes narrowed. He did not appreciate what she was inferring. “I can control myself, obviously, thank you.”

Anne straightened. “How am I supposed to trust you on that?”

Gilbert recoiled. For some twisted reason, he felt like he’d been slapped.

“Children,” Bash stepped between them smoothly, like he was gliding on ice. “You are both far mature than your ages suggest. Gilbert knows better than to do...” He cleared his throat, a bit uncomfortably. “Anything with a lady of your stature. You both do, you’re both smart. Gilbert will be happy to take the floor.”

Gilbert bit back a scowl. First, he was implied to be a heathen, and now he had to sleep on the floor? The sooner he rid himself of this bothersome foundling the better.

"May I have the room to myself at first," Anne asked, her eyes almost going dull as she stared just past them. "I'd like to take a bath.

“I’m going to draw a bath as well,” Gilbert said and found a spare room where Madame Caron would allow him to simply bathe.

After rinsing snow, mud, and sea from his skin, Gilbert returned to the gentleman’s lounge to see Bash still nursing the same drink.

“No excess of medicine tonight?” He asked.

Bash chuckled, “Too much to worry about. Want to dull my nerves, not lose my senses. Got to remain clear-eyed.”

“Do you think Anne will be able to convince Mrs. Lynde?” He asked.

“I’d say you’d be the better judge of that, Blythe,” Bash evaded. “You’re the only one that ever met her.”

Gilbert swallowed, “I only met the Princess once. My dad was just an archivist, I rarely interacted with the Cuthberts.”

“I meant Mrs. Lynde,” Bash said.

He cleared his throat and stretched his fingers out on the counter. He longed to unburden his guilt from losing Anne Cordelia. But keeping the secret was so rote now. And Bash was his only family left. He did not want to know how he’d react to the truth. If Bash left, he’d have no one.

“We met twice,” He said honestly, thinking of being ten and meeting the plump, arbitrarily severe or warm woman.

His father was getting sick, and Mrs. Lynde was an old friend of the Duchess from schooling. After the loss of the Princess, Duchess Marilla started turning to her for guidance, and the position became official.

“She seems like she should be nice...” He began. “But one false move, and she can obliterate you.”

He remembered when one of the guards were making fun of Matthew’s stutter. Rachel happened to be wandering around the castle halls, and he had been hiding from his dad’s cough, which was getting worse. It hurt like hell to hear, and he escaped it when he could.

 _Were you saying something, guards?_ She had said in a sharp, clipped tone. There was no response. _Speak a bit louder, the Duchess is nearby. I’m sure she would be thrilled to hear your opinion of her brother_.

When they stammered out an explanation, these grown men afraid of this short woman, she dismissed them on the spot. He had never been so impressed yet so terrified of a person who was not a royal before.

Bash whistled low after Gilbert told the full tale, “Aye, that’s a worry. But Anne’s a tough girl. She’ll be fine.”

Anne _was_ tough. Gilbert had to give her that. The way she handled things on the train was unparalleled, and even terrified on the boat, she remained calm enough to listen to him and survive. She was truly impressive.

But he wasn’t sure she was the lost princess.

+

(Anne)

Anne cleansed in the bath, long after the water grew cold. She had never taken such a glorious bath. The orphanage did not have indoor plumbing, meaning they cleaned themselves outside. This was much more preferable.

The soaps offered by the Inn were pleasantly pungent, and she felt like a new person. Which was perhaps the point.

She wanted to stay in there forever, where it was safe. Her stomach filled with iron butterflies due to her nerves about sharing a room with Gilbert Blythe.

Other than his occasionally cruel words, he was generally a gentleman. They had shared quarters on the ship, but neither of them had truly slept.

Plus, she knew how men could get at night.

She could sometimes still hear Mrs. Hammond crying out from her and her husband’s activities. Or the boy in one of the families she worked for who tried to grab her chest, but couldn’t when she dropped the cleaning bucket on his head.

But Gilbert did not seem to be like them. After the disaster on the ship, he’d proven himself a strong, reliable friend, even though it was to her complete and utter embarrassment. The question was, how far does that go? And how much could she trust herself to be right?

When her skin was wrinkly and her body fresh, she took the time to empty out her own basin and return it all to the Innkeeper.

Mrs. Caron stared at her in obvious surprise. “Mademoiselle, you not have to.”

“I did not mind,” She said. But in all honesty, it never occurred to her that she wouldn’t _have_ to clean it out herself.

But, if she truly were the lost princess, that would be something she would have to get used to, and that gave her a chill.

She tied her hair into two tight braids, and wrapped them in a cloth, so the chill would not freeze her head. Mrs. Caron had a daughter who had since moved in with her husband, so Anne was gifted her old nightgown. It was softer than the ones given to her at the orphanage, and she loved it immediately.

She wondered if she should fetch Gilbert from Bash’s room. She’d never had to share a room with a boy before and did not know the protocol.

But Gilbert wasn’t some boy, he was just her traveling companion. There was no reason for this to be queer. Resolutely, she marched downstairs to the gentleman’s lounge to see both Bash and Gilbert sharing a drink.

A slow smile spread on the older man’s face. “Princess Anne,” He greeted softly. “You look absolutely regal.”

She smiled back. “I’m certain I exude a regal aroma as well. I wanted to let Gilbert know he could come back into our room. My bath is complete.”

Gilbert frowned at her attire and shrugged off his coat. He too look freshly cleaned, any remaining soot from the train accident was off his face, and the stubble on his chin was gone, making him look years younger. She blinked at him, taken aback. He was _cute_. She knew he was handsome, mostly due to the other women gawking at him as they traveled in the towns. He was strong and tall too, and that was enough to deal with. But _cute_?

Anne nearly groaned at herself, she sounded like all the vapid girls in her orphanage whenever one of their new family members got married off. There was no use for gossiping, especially with herself.

She got out of her reverie when he handed her his coat. “You should not walk around lodgings like that,” He practically admonished her.

She rolled her eyes, but took the coat. It still smelled like smoke from the train, but it also smelled like Gilbert, like he had when he was rain-soaked and hugging her on the boat. She pulled on the sleeves and let it envelop her.

“I must say, you do look lovely, Anne,” He said, tilting his head at her in acknowledgment.

She cleared her throat. “You do as well, Gilbert.”

He turned to Bash. “You hear that, I’m _lovely_.”

Anne scowled and turned on her heel back to the room. With soft laughter behind her, the door shut and Gilbert followed her in. Without a word, the dark-haired boy plucked a blanket and pillow off the bed and settled on the floor. Leaving her with just the sheets and a lone pillow. And, well, the warm coat Gilbert gave her. She huffed and slid into bed.

This was going to be a long night.

+

(Gilbert)

The room was a bit bigger without the portable basin in it, so there was space for Gilbert to lay on the floor. It was hardwood, but at least it was stable, a far cry different than his times on boats that rocked with each sway of a wave.

Anne quickly got settled in bed. He considered saying his prayers, but it almost felt like a curse, because all he’d pray for was for this whole trip to have been worth it, and to get his reward so he could finally be free.

He placed his hands folded on his chest, but under the blanket. He silently prayed anyway, and hoped that God would still hear him. After mouthing _amen_ , he tried to sleep.

But it was far more difficult than he anticipated. He had never shared a room with a woman before. All his travels had been with men. They had all felt free to take on female companions, but he could never bring himself too. His father had told him, just a few weeks after he had gotten sick, that he had _ruined_ a girl. And the girl never married after that.

With sorrowful eyes, John Blythe told him, “It was my one regret. I should have married her proper, but I was a coward. Don’t ever ruin a woman.”

So he always stopped himself before he could. He had gotten offers, of course, but he’d never agreed. In his travels, women were often willing to forsake the traditional rules of courtship, for a variety of reasons. Mostly, it seemed to be adventure or pleasure, but some seemed desperate for any sort of companionship. Or almost worse, in need of money. But he would never take advantage.

Especially not when he saw the look of pure terror on the supposed Princess’s face at the thought of them just spending a night in one room together.

He tossed and turned a little on the floor, unable to drift off to sleep. His father’s words were rumbling around his head. But he could not imagine that he would be able to ruin a woman from the floor.

Just as he was about to give up, and resign to sneaking downstairs to the gentleman’s lounge; he heard a soft, “Gilbert?”

He debated not responding, but the only reason he could give was out of childish retribution.

“Are you awake?” She continued before he could respond anyway.

“Yes.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“Would you- do you mind- Can you please come up here to the bed? I can’t get warm enough.” She stammered through the request, managing to sound both demanding and hesitant in her tone. He found she often walked the line well.

“I thought you didn’t need my help,” He said, lifting himself up and resting on his palms.

“I don’t,” She said just as indignantly as she had when they had first met. Skies above, was that truly just four days prior? “But...” She trailed. Keeping her remaining sheets tucked tight around her, she leaned up slightly. “But I could use your warmth. It is dreadfully cold in here.”

He gathered the blanket and pillow in his arms and stood to face the apparent Princess in the bed. “Using me for my body, are you?” He could not help but tease. In the light of the moon drifting in, her fair skin turned as red as her hair, and he found himself smiling.

“If you’re going to be uncouth,” She hissed at him. “There’s the door. Enjoy Bash’s thunderous snoring in the barn.” With a humph, she turned over, facing away from him.

He laughed, unable to stop it, but he did step up to her. “I’m sorry, Princess.” He hoped the moniker would soothe her bruised ego. “I promise to be the utmost gentleman if we share this bed.”

“While I do not believe you capable of such, I want that blanket. I assume you come with it.”

“You assume correct.”

“No touching,” She insisted as he slid into bed next to her. Nicely, she moved over so there was space.

“I can control myself,” He said, offended, as he placed the blanket over both of them. He thought back to when they found out they were sharing accommodations in the first place, and the way her eyes had gone wide with fear at the thought of spending the night with him.

“I’m sure you can,” She muttered. He was about to banter back, indignant, when it sounded more self-deprecating than scathing against him.

With a frown, he let that be, due to his exhaustion and the upcoming day ahead. Careful not to let even their elbows touch, he settled into his pillow.

“Good night, Anne.”

The air was silent. He wondered if she was already asleep, she had been through a lot, when he heard a soft, “Good night, Gil.”

He smiled at the nickname, and was finally able to relax and fall into sweet slumber.

In the morning, the light pierced through the window and landed perfectly on his eyes. He went to stretch, when he couldn’t move his arm.

He nearly jolted. And his eyes flew open. Expecting to find himself shackled, he found Anne’s bright red hair leaning against his bicep, herself completely turned into him.

Eyes blinking rapidly, as if he would blink this image away, he studied the two of them. Under the blanket, their legs were practically tied together at the ankles, his ankle tucked under her calf.

Her hands rested against his chest, almost clasped together in prayer. She looked calm asleep, obviously. It was easier to see how sincerely beautiful she was when she was not fluttering around like a hummingbird, spouting out a thousand words a minute.

Her little night cap had fallen off, and her braids had come undone, and her hair fell onto her face and on his arm and chest. He was ashamed to admit it tickled.

“Anne,” He whispered, not wanting to frighten her. He tucked the strands of hair out of her eyes. “It’s morning.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Gilbert?” She questioned.

“Aye.” An odd part of him wanted to know who she thought it would be. Or worse, who she might have preferred to find in bed with her.

She straightened and pulled away. “I’m sorry,” She said quickly. “Terribly, dreadfully sorry.”

With a warming face, to make up for the lack of her body heat, he pulled his leg from under hers. “Well, then I’m sorry too. Are you alright?”

She nodded sharply, looking at the fraying ends of the jacket he’d given her. The red and black plaid looked good against her pale skin and bright hair, both juxtaposing and complementary.

For once, he did not know what to say. It was an exceptionally new feeling, especially around a girl. “Did you sleep well?”

Finally, she looked up at him. “Yes,” She said, but the word seemed heavier than a normal yes. And he felt like he was missing a piece of the puzzle.

Two sharp raps hit the door, and they both jumped towards it. “Come, children,” Bash’s voice gently called. “We must be on our way to Avonlea before nightfall.”

“We’ll join you shortly!” Gilbert called over and turned back to Anne, who was skirting the edges of the bed now, trying to get away from him.

“Well,” He cleared his throat. “I’ll go with Bash in the halls and allow you to get dressed.”

“Thank you,” Her voice was soft.

“We have a long day ahead,” He warned her. “But it will all be fine. You know that, do you?”

She nodded and looked into his eyes once more. “I do.”

He smiled. “Good. I will give you your privacy.”

He left the room, gently shutting it behind him. He turned to see Bash leaning against the wall, smirking smugly.

“I do not want to hear a single word,” He warned, running his fingers through his hair.

“I do not wish to offer a single word,” Bash lied, eyes glinting with mischief. “Come, they have warm breakfast downstairs, and most are in their sleepers. You’ll fit right in.”

Gilbert nodded, but gave one last look towards the door before following after his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There’s no scene like this in the movie, but I’m a sucker for bedsharing. So this was written.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [@shirbertblythe](https://shirbertblythe.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat! 
> 
>  
> 
> [now with aesthetic!](https://shirbertblythe.tumblr.com/post/180666684480/awae-aesthetics-anastasiaau-anne-cordelia)


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